The Wolf At The Door
by tracyh
Summary: Five years on from the end of Six Weeks To Midnight, Arthur and Guinevere have a beautiful home and two wonderful children. Arthur's plans for the business he took on when his father retired are going from strength to strength. Life should be perfect, but as the Pendragon's know all too well, life is never quite that simple.
1. Chapter 1

**The Wolf At The Door**

 **A/N Well here we are, my epic Six Weeks To Midnight is barely finished and here I am starting a sequel. The idea for a sequel came to me over breakfast towards the end of Six Weeks To Midnight. Since then I have padded the idea out and I think I can make what could be a bit of an obvious cliché into a half decent story, so we'll see.**

 **The story is M rated, probably for a reason at times. You should also probably know that this is set five years after the end of Six Weeks To Midnight. I have no real idea how long this story will be, but I don't expect it to turn into an epic, but this is me, so you never know what my muse will do.**

 **I won't give too much away about where I'm going with the story this time. All I ask is that you trust me and go along for the ride. I also ask you to leave me some reviews if you can. I'm sure not many people read or write the fandom now Merlin is long over as a series, but some encouragement would be nice.**

" _To ignore history is to ignore the wolf at the door" John Le Carre`_

 **Chapter One**

"Right you two, it's nearly time for bed," Guinevere Pendragon called out as she finished loading the washing machine. She slammed the door shut before setting it on a cycle and turning it on.

Once the washing machine was running Guinevere went through from the kitchen to the family room. She stuck her head around the entrance to the family room, which adjoined the kitchen. "Did you hear me you two?" she asked over the noise of a Disney DVD on the television. "Just five more minutes and it'll be bedtime."

The dark haired boy who had been sprawled all over the old leather sofa in the family room sat up straight away and slipped his feet back into the pair of trainers he'd discarded on the floor as soon as Guinevere said they could watch some television after their dinner, if they were good.

The blonde little girl was sitting on her knees on the floor playing with a teddy bear that had seen better days, but she flatly refused to part with it. At the sound of her mother's voice the little girl turned. "Can't we just stay up a bit longer?"

Guinevere sighed at the little girl who looked so much like her father and shook her head. "You can't darling, not really. You've got preschool tomorrow and Llacheu has to be up for school, so you really need to go to bed."

Just at that the DVD finished and Guinevere's children got up. The little girl moved a bit more reluctantly than her older brother, but was sensible enough to know that bedtime wasn't negotiable, especially when they had school the next day, so she did as she was told. Guinevere followed the children upstairs. Llacheu went to his room and began to change his clothes. "I'll be in to see how you're getting on in a minute sweetheart," Guinevere stuck her head around her son's bedroom door quickly. "I'll just help Amhar to get ready for bed and then I'll come and see how you're getting on, all right?"

Llacheu, who resembled his mother in almost every way apart from his height, which was entirely his father's, turned to his mother and rolled his eyes in a good natured sort of way that told Guuinevere she was fussing over him again. "I can do it myself now Mum, I'm a big boy." He finished taking off the clothes he'd worn since he'd finished school for the day a few hours before and began to slide his foot into his pyjama bottoms as he spoke.

Guinevere watched her son trying to balance on one leg while he slipped the other leg into his pyjama bottoms and smothered a smile. "I know you can do it yourself Llacheu, you're a clever boy, but I'll still come in and see how you're getting on when I've tucked Amhar in, all right?"

Guinevere turned from her son's room and followed her daughter to the room next door. "Right young lady; let's get you ready for bed."

"You won't forget George, will you Mummy?" The little girl gave her mother an anxious look.

Guinevere shook her head as she helped Amhar change into a pair of pink pyjamas with a teddy bear on the front. "Now when have I ever forgotten George?" She smiled tenderly at her daughter, opening up her bed, which was covered in a pink quilt. In fact, Amhar's room looked like an explosion in a candy floss factory. Almost everything in the room was pink, right from the walls and curtains, to the bedding on the bed. Even the bedstead was bright pink, although it was made slightly more bearable by some little fairy lights that were wrapped around the bedstead and powered by a tiny battery. As confident as she was, much more outgoing than her slightly shy older brother, four year old Amhar still didn't like sleeping on her own in the dark. When she first began to be afraid of the dark Guinevere had left the bathroom light on, hoping it would throw enough light into the hallway. She left the light on until Amhar had fallen asleep. That had worked for a while, until Amhar worked out what was going on and woke up in the night, screaming in the dark. Guinevere didn't really want to leave a light on all night because she thought it would keep Llacheu awake, not that he would ever complain, so she went out looking for an alternative and found some fairy lights that looked like butterflies. Amhar had loved them on sight and couldn't wait to go to bed and use them. Guinevere had wrapped them carefully around the bedstead at the head of the bed and turned them on. The little lights weren't bright, but they just gave out enough of a glow to stop Amhar worrying about the dark and let them all sleep in peace.

"Come on then, into bed." Guinevere watched Amhar climb into bed and pulled the quilt over her. She handed over George, the teddy bear that had been a favourite with Amhar since before she could talk and therefore now looked a bit aged and sorry for himself, with his wonky ears and a nose that was literally hanging by a thread, and tucked Amhar in, leaning over to kiss her goodnight.

"Mummy?"

Guinevere stood upright again as Amhar spoke. "What is it sweetheart?" She had a feeling she knew what was coming. It often did lately.

Amhar looked up at her mother with wide sapphire blue eyes. "Is Daddy going to be coming home tonight?"

Guinevere sighed and sat down for a moment on the side of Amhar's bed, knowing she had thought right. Barely a night went by these days when Amhar didn't go to bed and ask when her father would be home. Sometimes Amhar would just quietly ask the question, but on other nights the little girl, who resembled her father in almost every way, with her light blonde hair, although hers surrounded her head with tight curls, and sapphire blue eyes that made her appear almost angelic, would cry for her father and plead with her mother to make him come home from work.

Guinevere cast her mind back to when Amhar was born. Just a year and a half after giving birth to Llacheu, Guinevere was in labour again. This time Guinevere and Arthur had decided to wait for the birth to find out what sex the baby was, so when the midwife announced that they had a beautiful little girl, they were surprised. Guinevere could still remember the moment Arthur first held his daughter in his arms. Right from the moment she was born Amhar was beautiful. She didn't look red and puffy like some newborn babies; her skin was perfectly soft and wrinkle free. As Arthur held her, Amhar's eyes opened and she gazed up at her father with total trust in her eyes. Arthur reached out a finger and Amhar clutched it, her long fingers clasping Arthur's finger and gripping it with all her might, as if she already believed her father would always keep her safe and be her lifeline. Arthur had wept, his heart overflowing with love for this adorable little girl in his arms, and Guinevere knew he was smitten.

Arthur loved his sons, Guinevere knew that. Gwydre was born before they'd been married for two years. Before their second anniversary Gwydre was gone. He'd been snatched away by sudden infant death syndrome when he was three months old. Gwydre's death had nearly destroyed Arthur and Guinevere's marriage, but they had eventually found their way back together and began to recover from their loss.

Llacheu came along a couple of months after Guinevere and Arthur's fifth wedding anniversary. Guinevere's mind went back over her pregnancy with Llacheu. The excitement of the pregnancy was tinged by the constant fear of losing another baby in the way they had lost Gwydre. The fear had increased when Llacheu was born, but he'd come through the early months of his life and continued to thrive.

Eighteen months after Llacheu's birth Amhar was born. Arthur had adored his daughter from the moment she was born, and it was mutual. Amhar was the very definition of a Daddy's girl. Just as he'd done with the boys, Arthur spent every minute he could with Amhar when she was a baby. Her first word was 'Dada' and she took her first tottering steps into Arthur's arms. Guinevere could still hear the baby squealing with delight when Arthur picked her up after she walked towards him on wobbly legs when she was eleven months old. He'd held the baby in his arms, holding one of her hands in his and wrapping his other arm around her while he spun her around the room as if they were waltzing.

Arthur remained attentive and doted on Llacheu and Amhar until Amhar started preschool when she was three. Guinevere knew that Arthur still adored the children, but in the year since Amhar had started preschool, he had become increasingly wrapped up in work.

Arthur was an estate agent. He'd taken over the family company when his father retired. Over time he'd expanded the business. A short time before Llacheu was born Arthur went into constructing homes as well as selling them. He built six properties on the edge of Winchester, intending them to be purchased at affordable prices for people just starting out on the property ladder. The properties all sold quickly when they were completed, just a year after Llacheu was born, and then Arthur began to receive offers from local councils and housing associations up and down the country to build properties for them. The properties they wanted were cheap and basic, but Arthur put his heart and soul into the work and soon oversaw more houses being built all over the country.

Everything changed when Amhar was three. Up until then Arthur made sure he could get home every night before the children went to bed. He used to get home when they were eating their evening meal and would help to bath them and put them to bed. He tried to finish early as much as he could when Guinevere went back to work. He worked from home as much as possible so he could be with the children when Guinevere went out to work. Even on days he was late home from work he would give in to pleas for just one story, reading a book to the children or making a story up out of his head, doing all the voices for characters and keeping the children engrossed with the tales he told and the pictures he created in their minds. Then, just before Amhar's third birthday, Arthur came home one night and said he'd received an offer to build a chain of private estates around the country, each small estate in wealthy areas, or in areas that were becoming more affluent. He showed Guinevere the plans for the properties, which were to be five and six bedroom houses in new gated communities in the most affluent areas, or five bedroom houses and smart apartment blocks in areas that were on the rise. Guinevere could still remember feeling stunned when she thought of how much money went into constructing and selling properties like the buildings Arthur was being asked to build. Each new home could easily cost a million pounds or more to buy, and the apartments could be worth almost as much, which meant that the contract to build them, which Arthur was considering, was worth a very large amount of money.

Arthur had been reluctant to get involved in private housing at first. All he had originally intended to do when he took Pendragon Homes into construction, was build affordable housing for families who struggled to buy properties of their own, families like theirs if their circumstances had been different, he'd explained to Guinevere, one night as they lay in bed and Arthur turned his decision over in his mind. All he'd intended to do was build a few properties, but the success of the small estate he built had expanded into several estates all over the country, and that had then grown into an offer to go into private properties for a completely different market.

Arthur had thought long and hard about what to do. Guinevere could see him thinking about it, turning the idea over and over in his mind, debating with himself what to do. In the end, after giving it a lot of thought, Arthur decided to do it. He knew there were risks involved in going into such a new direction, but the success he'd already had gave him confidence he could do it. He could also see how lucrative the work could be, and how they could benefit, not just in the business sense, but as a family. "I could give you anything you want, and the children could go to good schools when the time comes," he said, once he'd settled on going ahead. Guinevere questioned what she could possibly need, knowing they had beautiful children and a lovely home they bought just before Llacheu was born, but she didn't have the heart to hold Arthur back, so she supported him in going ahead.

The problems started very soon after Arthur went into this new area of business. Soon he started to miss parts of family life that had once been so important to him. Originally Guinevere and Arthur had shared as much of the childcare as possible. Guinevere had gone back to work herself when Amhar went to preschool. With Amhar just starting preschool and Llacheu on the brink of going to school, Guinevere felt able to go back to work as a carer, just on a part time basis, doing a few hours a week to fill the time she would have spent with the children when they were at home all the time, but now the children were spreading their wings, Llacheu was just months away from starting school, so Guinevere went back to work, knowing perfectly well she didn't need to go back for the money, Arthur earned enough to cover the expenses they had, but going back to create something for herself and do something that benefitted other people.

When Guinevere went back to work Arthur promised he would do everything he could to organise his work around hers. He promised he would make sure he had days when he could either take the children to preschool on his way to work, or he would make sure he still had time to pick them up after preschool when Guinevere was working, but it hadn't worked out that way. Soon Guinevere had to reduce the hours she could work so that she could be around for the children. She was having to rush around in the mornings to get the children up and taken to preschool before dashing to work herself, and then finishing work just in time to go and pick the children up again. Then she would go home, feed the children and do anything in the house that needed to be done before starting to prepare a meal again for when Arthur got home.

It didn't take long before the cracks started to develop. Six months into the new project Arthur was running himself ragged, trying to juggle the estate agency, even though he had had a deputy manager in the office, Percival, who could run the place in his sleep, the housing projects for the councils and the new private housing developments. He was putting in long hours, sometimes not getting home until long after the children had gone to bed, and leaving for work again before they were up in the mornings, which meant that they went days at a time without seeing him. It became even worse when problems developed on the private developments and Arthur needed to travel to sort out what was wrong. Even when the initial problems were sorted out new issues developed, and now, a year on from when he started the private developments, Arthur was still regularly having to go to London, Oxford or Cambridge, or sometimes even further away, to deal with some crisis or other. Sometimes he got home just as Guinevere was going to bed herself, but lately he'd decided that if he was going to be late getting back it would be easier for him to book a room in a hotel for the night close to the development sites rather than commuting, arriving home late and disrupting the family late at night.

Guinevere wanted to ask Arthur to come home at night. She wanted to tell him she didn't care how late it was, that having him home for a few hours was better than him spending days at a time away, but pride stopped her speaking. She was juggling the children, her job and looking after the house on her own and resentment was starting to creep in. The resentment she was starting to feel increased sharply when Arthur missed Llacheu's first day at school, which came a couple of months before Llacheu turned five and just a couple of weeks before Arthur and Guinevere's tenth wedding anniversary, which Arthur had also gone on to miss because of work.

Guinevere got up on the morning of Llacheu's first day at school and helped him get ready. She sensed his nerves and tried to reassure him, but she knew that what Llacheu really needed was his father, but Arthur wasn't there. She helped Amhar get ready for preschool quickly, chatting away to try to make the day feel normal, but it wasn't. When it came to the time when they had to leave for school Llacheu held Guinevere's hand in a way he hadn't for ages, holding on to her tightly as if he was afraid she would disappear if he let go. She dropped Amhar off at preschool first, telling her that her grandpa was going to pick her up at lunchtime and take her to his house for some lunch because Mummy was working. With a quick kiss and a hug, Amhar disappeared into the familiar surroundings of the preschool that adjoined the school Amhar would start when she was five. Then it was Llacheu's turn. They set off on the short walk from Amhar's preschool to the school where Llacheu would start his first full day of education. Guinevere took him in to the school building and through to his classroom, where she exchanged a quick greeting with his teacher before kneeling to speak to Llacheu.

"Now, you've got everything you need in your school bag," Guinevere forced a smile to her lips and indicated to the small rucksack on Llacheu's back as she spoke in a low voice. "You've got a packed lunch. I've made you some ham and cheese sandwiches because they're your favourite, and I've put some fruit in too and some carrot sticks because I know you like them. I've put you a little snack for break time too, a little bar of chocolate for a treat. Oh, and I've put you a drink in for lunch time too, a carton of fruit juice, but if you can't manage to put the straw into the carton remember to ask one of the dinner ladies to help you and they will, all right?" She had to collect herself before she went on. All the time she was speaking Llacheu had been looking back at her, his face full of apprehension. She could see him biting his lip in an attempt to be good, but his eyes were wide with fear. "Now, remember to say please and thank you," Guinevere went on, pulling herself together and taking Llacheu's hand, finding it as cold as ice. She rubbed it absently as she continued to speak, forcing herself to sound cheerful. "Remember to ask your teacher if you need to use the toilet and she'll let you go." The moment to leave was fast approaching. Guinevere sighed and kissed Llacheu softly. "I'm going to go now, but I promise I will be back here when the bell rings at three thirty for home time."

"You're going to come and get me, not Grandpa?" Llacheu asked, his lip wobbling as he spoke and his voice higher than usual.

Guinevere shook her head and took both of Llacheu's hands in hers, knowing he was close to tears."No, Grandpa is going to pick up Amhar for me because I'm working, but I will be finished work by the time you finish school, so I will come and pick you up and you can tell me all about your first day at school while we go to Grandpa's to pick up Amhar, all right?"

Llacheu's face, which resembled Guinevere's so much, filled with relief. He nodded and broke into something that was nearly a smile, but looked a little bit too watery for that.

Guinevere hugged Llacheu tightly and then stood. "Right, I will see you later, don't forget, I want to know all about your first day when I come to pick you up. Be a good boy, I'll see you later."

With that Llacheu's teacher attracted his attention. Guinevere just caught sight of the teacher helping Llacheu to take his rucksack off his back and take his coat off as she walked out of the classroom. She heard the teacher showing Llacheu where to hang up his coat and rucksack, just inside the classroom in a small entranceway. When she was out of earshot of the classroom Guinevere started to run. She ran out of the school building and across the playground as fast as her legs would carry her, until she was just around the corner from the school. Then, finding a quiet spot out of the way of people as they passed by, Guinevere burst into tears.

Guinevere's memories slipped away and she turned her attention back to Amhar, who was wrapped up in her pink quilt, her sleepy eyes gazing up at her mother expectantly. Guinevere pulled a smile to her lips. "Yes darling, Daddy will be home in a while."

The light that came on behind Amhar's eyes outshone the little lights around the bedstead. "Will you ask him to come and kiss me goodnight when he's home, please?"

The plea in Amhar's voice brought a lump to Guinevere's throat. She blinked rapidly and willed herself to keep smiling. "I will ask him darling, but you mustn't try to stay awake for him. Daddy might be a while yet, he's driving home from a long way away, so you need to go to sleep because you've got preschool in the morning. I promise I'll ask him to come and give you a goodnight kiss though."

Placated, Amhar settled down again. Then it seemed as if she had another thought and took hold of Guinevere's hand. "Mummy, is Ganpa going to pick me up tomorrow, after preschool?"

Guinevere smothered a smile at Amhar's name for her Grandpa, Arthur's father. From the time she could talk Amhar had called Uther Ganpa, because she just couldn't say 'grandpa'. The name had stuck even after Amhar learned to pronounce her r's and became a term of affection. As much as Amhar adored her father, she also adored her Grandpa, and Uther doted on both of his grandchildren. He was always offering to childmind and treating the children to small gifts. When Llacheu started school Uther immediately offered to go and pick Amhar up each day from preschool, which did shorter days than the regular schools. Guinevere hadn't wanted to intrude on Uther at first, saying she could work something out so she could pick both children up, but Uther had insisted she wasn't intruding and he wanted to help, if she agreed. "It would give me some time to spend with my granddaughter," he'd said brightly, knowing full well that what he meant was that it would give him time to spoil Amhar rotten.

Guinevere had eventually agreed, grateful for the help because it meant she could work knowing that Amhar was somewhere she would be looked after properly, and Llacheu didn't finish school until she was due to finish work anyway, so it would be a big help. More recently, now Llacheu was comfortable with school and settling in well eight months after that nervous first day, Uther had also started to pick him up from school. That allowed Guinevere to finish work and have an hour or two at home to do housework without the children there, which would give her time to spend with them doing fun things when she picked them up, or it gave her another couple of hours she could spend at work, which she felt went some way towards making up for the time she had to cut her hours down so much when both of the children were at preschool.

Guinevere sometimes wondered if offering his help was her father in law's way of trying to make up for the years when Arthur was a child. Uther had spent years overlooking his son while he worked. It was his desperate way of trying to escape from the realities of losing his wife in a car accident when Arthur was three. The thought made her wonder how Arthur could make the same mistake now. Arthur loved the children, Guinevere knew that without a doubt, but since he was working on the new development he had effectively become an absent father, and his children felt the loss of him keenly. Both children responded to Arthur's absence by needing constant reassurance. Every day they asked who was going to pick them up from school or preschool, and if Guinevere left them with their grandpa, or on the odd occasion when Gwaine and Sefa had them for an hour or two, they needed to know exactly what time Guinevere would pick them up. Though neither Llacheu or Amhar could express it, Guinevere sensed they were both frightened of being abandoned completely and ending up alone. The thought of either of them having that in the back of their minds made Guinevere feel sick, so she made sure she was never late to pick the children up, even if they were in familiar surroundings like their Grandpa's house.

Guinevere smiled softly down on her daughter. "Yes, Grandpa is going to pick up you up from preschool and take you to his house for lunch, and then he'll take you to pick up Llacheu from school. I'm going to come to Grandpa's to pick you up when I finish work. We've got something special to do on the way from Grandpa's, but then we'll come home and maybe you can have a treat for dinner, if you're both good. Maybe we could go and see Uncle Gwaine and Uncle Leon at the restaurant, how about that?"

Amhar nodded sleepily and then tried to smother a yawn. Seeing her daughter was falling asleep, Guinevere leaned down again to kiss Amhar once more, whisper a soft "I love you," and say goodnight and then she went to Llacheu's room.

By now Llacheu was tucked up in bed, a small bedside lamp on a bedside table casting a soft glow into the room. Guinevere smiled when she looked at the lampshade on the lamp. It was covered in little images of footballs, and the lamp itself looked like a china football cut in half with a flat bottom for it to stand on. Around the walls of the room, which were originally pale blue, Llacheu had football posters, some representing various clubs, but others showing players Llacheu looked up to. Most of the pale blue paint, which had been on the walls for at least a couple of years, was hidden by the posters.

Guinevere tucked Llacheu's quilt, which was also covered in footballs, over him more closely and sat down on the side of the bed. "You're a good boy sweetheart, you're getting quick at changing now, and doing it all by yourself, that's very grown up."

"I'm a big boy now Mum," Llacheu almost rolled his eyes at his mother and then beamed at her affectionately, his chocolate eyes shining in the light of the room. "I'm five and a half."

"Yes well," Guinevere gazed down on her son with love in her eyes, "you'll always be my baby." She grinned and pretended to give Llacheu a sloppy kiss.

Llacheu pulled a face and a laugh burst from him when Guinevere went to tickle him. "Muuuuuuum!"

Llacheu quietened down after a moment. "Now I'm five and a half that means they'll let me play football soon, doesn't it Mum?"

Guinevere sighed. She'd been having this discussion with Llacheu for months. He'd been introduced to football by his Grandpa, who had bought a mini football goal for his back garden almost as soon as Llacheu could walk. Llacheu had also watched matches on the television with his Granddad, her Dad, when they visited him in the nursing home he'd lived in since just after Amhar was born. Llacheu had become hooked on the game, and when he discovered there were local teams, he desperately wanted to join. The problem was that none of the local teams accepted children until they were six. Llacheu remained undaunted. Every passing month now seemed to bring the same thing from him, "They'll let me play soon, won't they Mum?" accompanied by the same hopeful look in his eyes.

"They'll let you try to get into a team when you're six, Llacheu," Guinevere explained for what felt like the millionth time. "When you're six we'll look at the local teams and see which ones you might like to try to get into..."

"I want to join the City Flyers Mum, you know I do," Llacheu interrupted, sitting halfway up in bed.

Guinevere settled Llacheu back down and mentally told her Dad off for telling her son about all the local teams and showing him pictures of their kits. Ever since then Llacheu had been transfixed by the thought of joining the City Flyers. They had teams of all ages, from under tens to eighteen year olds. Their kit was black shorts and shirts with a deep red vertical band on one half of the front.

Guinevere nodded patiently. "Yes, I know you do sweetheart, and in six months time, when you're six, we'll look into trying to get you into the team, so you need to be patient until then."

Llacheu sat and counted the months on his fingers. "That's next season Mum!" His eyes lit up with excitement.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. Now she'd done it. Llacheu would now be counting the days for the next football season to start. She decided to cut the conversation off while she had a chance. She leaned forward and kissed Llacheu. "Yes well, boys who don't get enough sleep don't have enough energy for football, do they?"

As Guinevere went to sit up from leaning over to kiss Llacheu goodnight, he put his arms around her and hugged her as tightly as he could. "I really love you, Mum."

Guinevere hugged Llacheu back, holding his little body tightly in her arms. She knew enough about her son to know this had nothing to do with their conversation about the possibility of him joining football teams. This was entirely genuine. Llacheu had a tendency to be a bit shy, especially with people he didn't know very well, but he had a capacity to love that came completely naturally to him. He showed affection as easily as breathing. He did get a bit embarrassed if he thought he was being treated like a baby, but when it came to giving out hugs and expressing his love, he didn't hold back. Since Arthur became increasingly absent Llacheu had clung to Guinevere even more, holding her hand at every opportunity and going out of his way to say I love you.

"I really love you too, my darling boy," Guinevere closed her eyes to hold back the rush of emotion that came over her.

Llacheu settled back down into bed a moment or two later. "Right, now, you need to get off to sleep young man," Guinevere said, beginning to stand up. "After school tomorrow I'll pick you and Amhar up from Grandpa's and we've got something special to do, and then I thought you might both want to go and have something nice to eat at Uncle Gwaine and Uncle Leon's restaurant, what do you think?"

Llacheu nodded and beamed with pleasure. "Can we have ice cream for dessert?"

Guinevere smothered a grin. Her son had inherited her sweet tooth. "Yes, we can have ice cream for dessert." She stood up properly and went to the door, turning off the lamp on the bedside table as she went.

"G'night Mum, love you," Llacheu yawned and then turned over on his side, burying himself in his quilt.

Guinevere smiled and went downstairs.

About twenty minutes after Guinevere had put the children to bed she heard the sound of a familiar car pulling up outside the house. She didn't get up, not even when she heard a key being put into the lock on the front door. She knew who it would be. She heard familiar footsteps in the hallway and through the kitchen and waited for Arthur to make an appearance. She didn't have to wait long.

Arthur Pendragon stood in the entrance to the family room, leaning heavily on the side of the dividing wall between the kitchen and the family room. Guinevere dragged her eyes off the television, where she'd been watching a film for the last few minutes, and turned the sound down with the remote control on the side of the old leather sofa they'd brought with them when they moved from the flat they'd lived in for most of the first five years of their marriage. They had a newer sofa in the living room, a big corner sofa that filled a lot of space in the living room and provided places for people to sit down when they entertained, not that they had entertained anyone for months.

Guinevere turned her attention to Arthur. He looked exhausted. His dark grey suit looked like he'd worn it for at least two days, it was creased and there was some sort of greasy stain on the jacket, as if he'd spilled something over himself. Guinevere noted the way the suit seemed to hang slightly on Arthur, as if it was a size too big for him, and clamped down on the urge to worry.

Arthur walked into the room almost at a snail's pace and dropped himself down on the opposite end of the sofa to Guinevere. She forced herself not to remember how Arthur used to kiss her in greeting every evening when he came home when he worked regularly in the office at Pendragon Homes. He would kiss her every morning when he left for work too, especially after the awful times when they were putting themselves back together after being pushed to the brink of divorce when Gwydre died and she was coming back from falling into an emotional collapse that had come about because she tried to run away from her grief. Some days she would almost have to push him out of the front door to work in those times when they were back together and finding a way through their despair. Now Arthur seemed permanently exhausted, too tired to kiss her in greeting or hold her in his arms. He lacked the energy to initiate any sort of physical contact with her, and Guinevere was becoming fed up with feeling like she was pushing him in to it.

Guinevere recalled the last time they made love. She did a quick calculation and realised it had been a month since they'd been together in that way. It reminded her of the months after Gwydre died, when they had bitter arguments and lay with their backs to each other in bed. Then they spent months apart and Arthur had applied for a divorce. Guinevere had become ill at some point she still couldn't quite define after Gwydre died, and Arthur, not realising the state she was in, had felt pushed out, so he left. It had taken them months to sort themselves out, and a while to rebuild their relationship, but when they made love again it was like they had never been apart. Guinevere could still remember every touch, every kiss they exchanged that first time after so long. Somewhere deep down Guinevere wished it could be like that again, when Arthur cared enough to show his love with his body as well as with words, but he never seemed to have the energy, or maybe the will, for either now.

The last time they made love Arthur had been away for over a week. There had been some issues he never really explained with the development on the outskirts of London and the only way Arthur could deal with the problem was to go and see for himself what was happening. He was away longer than he said he would be and almost crawled into the house when he got back. He ate half of a meal Guinevere put in front of him and then said he was going to have a shower. As he walked out of the room it dawned on Guinevere that he hadn't asked after her or the children, but she pushed the thought aside, not wanting to pick a fight with him when he was just back after being away for what felt like an age.

Guinevere gave Arthur a few minutes and then went up the stairs. Knowing Arthur would be in their en suite bathroom and never locked the door when it was just them and the children in the house, especially if the children were in bed, she intended to go and pick up his clothes from where she knew he would dump them on the floor when he got into the shower.

As Guinevere went into the en suite she heard the sound of the shower. She found Arthur's clothes on the floor and picked them up, dropping them into the plastic laundry basket in the corner of the room, which she still found surprisingly spacious after living in the house for years. Any noise she made was drowned out by the rush of the shower.

Guinevere was about to walk out of the room when she stopped. Arthur was just visible through the glass panel of the shower screen and the clouds of steam the hot water churned into the air. Guinevere watched as Arthur reached up to wash his hair, his naked body stretching as he rubbed shampoo into his hair and then washed it out, his strong arms flexing with every move he made.

Suddenly Guinevere wanted him. Heat rose within her like the clouds of steam rising from Arthur's body. Without thinking about it, she began to undress, dropping her own clothes onto the floor in her haste. Then, gathering her courage as her nerve almost failed when she was naked, she stepped forward and reached for the door on the shower screen. She opened it quietly and stepped inside, closing the glass door behind her.

Arthur was oblivious to Guinevere at first. His head was under the steaming shower, blocking out anything else. He had his back to Guinevere and she watched as rivulets of water ran down in his back. She followed the droplets with her eyes, watching as they traced the muscles of Arthur's back and then slid further down to his narrow hips and then went lower across the firm muscles of his...

"Guinevere." Arthur's voice broke into her study of his body. She took in how he automatically caressed the syllables of her name in a way that was achingly familiar. The sound of it almost brought a lump to her throat. He had barely called her by name for months.

Guinevere looked Arthur in the eyes as he turned to face her and willed herself to be brave. "I...I thought you might like some company?" She hated the way it sounded like she doubted, like she was asking him to do her some sort of service that she had no right to ask for. "I missed you." She hated that even more. She sounded like she was begging.

A sigh heaved through Arthur's frame. "I'm so tired, Guinevere." He looked down at himself. The sight of her naked and so close would have made him hard in moments in the past. Now he was still almost flaccid. "I don't know if I can..." He stopped talking abruptly as embarrassment flooded his face.

Every part of Guinevere suddenly ached to get out of that room. She felt rejected and spurned, but the shame written across Arthur's face made her stay. She stepped closer to him. "I don't care about that," she spoke softly, willing herself not to back down. "I just want to be close Arthur, please." She reached for him and slipped her arms around his waist.

Guinevere loved Arthur slowly that night, giving and giving of herself until he was ready to join with her, and then giving him even more until he shuddered through his release. He offered her almost nothing in return, no endearments, no kisses, no caresses. He sighed when it was over, but Guinevere couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or relief that she'd finished with him. She suspected it was the latter.

A moment later, Arthur stepped around her and opened the door of the shower screen. "I need to go to bed. I need to be up early in the morning, I've got to go to Oxford and Sussex." With that he was gone.

Guinevere could just make out Arthur wrapping a towel around his waist through the shower screen. Then she heard the en suite door open and close. When she was sure Arthur had really gone she turned the temperature of the water up and stood directly under the spray, pretending that the water in her eyes wasn't tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Well now, hopefully chapter one has caught your interest, and my thanks go to those of you who have reviewed and read the first chapter. I do appreciate it. You can tell immediately that Arthur is not in the best place at the moment. I don't think he is a bad person. It's not my intention to make you hate him, but it is clear that he isn't the man he used to be just now, which impacts on Guinevere, and perhaps worse, on their children. Just to address one reviewer. Arthur is most definitely not having an affair. Arthur works all the hours God sends and would not have time for an affair.**

 **Readers will notice I made Amhar a girl in this. I think in the Arthurian legends Amhar is traditionally a boy, but I thought making her a girl would make the story a bit more interesting. Just finally, for the first chapter I did do a bit of research on football teams for children in the UK, and in Winchester in particular, because the story is set there. The City Flyers do exist and they do cater for teams of all ages up to 18. It is also true that most teams in the UK won't take children until they are six.**

 **By the way, I know there was a lot of doom and gloom in Six Weeks To Midnight at the beginning. I know it might appear as if this is following the same pattern, but I will try to bring in some light moments when I can.**

 **Chapter Two**

Guinevere sat in silence with Arthur in the family room for several minutes, the television burbling away on a low volume in the background. Eventually Guinevere picked up the remote control and pointed it at the television. The screen went black instantly and the room was submerged into an awkward silence.

Guinevere turned her attention through the French doors at the end of the room. The sun was just beginning to go down, staining the clouds in the sky with hints of red and orange, casting a glow over the long garden at the back of the house. Immediately behind the French doors was a patio area with a small garden table and chairs to one side. On the other side of the patio, which was an area of soft grey slabs to match up with the colour of the rendered brickwork of the house, three slabs wide and three deep, there was a retractable washing line. The line emerged from a wind up mechanism that was bolted into the brickwork for the house just outside the French doors. Then it stretched across the patio and was wrapped around a hook in a wooden post Arthur had put up for her just a few weeks after Llacheu was born.

Guinevere could still see Arthur coming in from work when Llacheu was three weeks old. It was his first full day back at work after the birth and he greeted Guinevere by kissing her as if he hadn't seen her in weeks and took the baby from her, holding him in one arm, while he presented her with a square cardboard box.

When Guinevere took the box from Arthur she was surprised to find it quite heavy. "What's this?" she asked him, taking a seat on the sofa in the family room as Arthur sat down with the baby and wrapped both of his arms around him.

Arthur smiled. "I wouldn't get too excited love, it's not the most romantic present I'll ever buy you, but I needed to go out this afternoon. On my way back to the office I looked around the shops and saw this. I thought it might come in handy for the garden, especially with this one creating plenty of washing." He gazed down affectionately at the baby, taking in his olive skin and the delicate features that were so like Guinevere. The baby slept peacefully in his father's arms. Every now and then his eyes fluttered and his mouth made tiny movements, as if he was dreaming.

Guinevere's brows arched quizzically and she opened the box and pulled out the contents. She found a small circular plastic grey case with a button on the bottom next to a tiny hole that had a small hook emerging from it. On one side of the case was what appeared to be a metal bar. Guinevere worked out what it was for when she saw two bolt holes in the middle of the bar. She pulled gently on the hook that emerged from the hole in the bottom of the case and found a length of cord. Then she pushed the button next to the hole where the cord emerged and it snapped back into the mechanism.

Guinevere turned to Arthur and smiled. "You bought me a washing line." She beamed wider as she spoke.

Arthur laughed softly at the look on his wife's face. She looked like he'd presented her with the Crown Jewels. Arthur always knew Guinevere took pleasure in simple things, but the delighted gleam in her eyes over the washing line did something to his insides. "I'll have to remember to buy you one every week if it makes you look at me like that."

Guinevere leaned forward and kissed Arthur, caressing his mouth with her own until he moaned in the back of his throat. Then she pulled back and beamed at him again. "You don't understand; I've never had a washing line of my own. We had one at Dad's before I moved out when we got married. Then we couldn't have one at the flat because we didn't have a garden, but I have a washing line of my own now. It's like we're really married or something." She rolled her eyes at herself, knowing how crazy she sounded, and then smiled again.

Arthur's heart turned over in his chest. "Oh, we're definitely married Mrs Pendragon," he said warmly. Then, making sure he was holding the baby firmly, he leaned forward and kissed her; his lips drifting from her lips to her ear, and then down the smooth lines of her neck. When Guinevere's breath hitched he backed away, aching for her. "It's really not fair of you to make me want to ravish you with the baby in my arms you know, especially while I'm still recovering from the birth." He gazed at her through lowered eyelids, his voice low with arousal.

Guinevere rolled her eyes at him, forcing herself not to laugh at his silliness. Then she turned, looked through the French doors and watched the frost start to form in the cold early December air. Turning back to Arthur, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "You can ravish me on December 31st if you like; consider it a New Year present."

So he did.

Now the pair of them sat in the family room, locked in an uncomfortable silence. Guinevere turned to Arthur and found him leaning on the back of the sofa heavily, his body slouched and his eyes closed. If Guinevere didn't know better she would swear he was sleeping and she was loath to disturb him. Every day, at least on the days they woke up in the same bed, she willed Arthur to wake up and be the man she knew so well again, a man who didn't put his work in front of everything else, adored his children and loved her, but it never happened. Instead, every passing day seemed to take Arthur further away. He seemed to be disappearing under the weight of something, but he wouldn't discuss it. When Guinevere tried to talk to him about what was happening to them he became irritable and even more distant. He never raised his voice, but he behaved like she was just one of a long line of irritations he had to contend with, one more thing he didn't have the time or the energy for, so Guinevere kept her mouth shut and tried to give him some space to deal with whatever was going on in his head, but then he seemed to withdraw even more.

Eventually Arthur's eyes flickered open. For a moment he didn't seem to quite know where he was, his eyes went around the room, still looking heavy and sleep laden, while he studied his surroundings until he seemed to get his bearings. Then he heaved a sigh. "I need to go to bed, I'm shattered."

Guinevere bit back an urge to say he was always shattered these days. Instead she thought of Amhar and the promise she made earlier. "Would you go and give Amhar a goodnight kiss before you go to bed? She was asking after you tonight and I promised I would ask, and you might want to look in on Llacheu while you're at it. They're probably both asleep by now, so it wouldn't take a second."

Arthur sighed heavily. "Is there any point if they're both asleep?"

Guinevere couldn't help the flare of annoyance that rose inside her. It burned behind her eyes and in her chest for a moment in a way she couldn't hold back. "They are your children too Arthur; they don't ask much from you other than a little bit of your attention, when you can be bothered."

Arthur got to his feet abruptly. "What's that supposed to mean?" He glared, but even in his frustration Arthur's exhaustion seemed to cling to him. His voice was weary and cold.

Guinevere was beginning to wish she hadn't opened her mouth. She hadn't meant to pick a fight with him. "They just miss you Arthur, that's all I'm saying," she adopted a conciliatory tone.

The fight seemed to die in Arthur's gaze. He released a slow breath and closed his eyes for a moment, appearing to gather his thoughts. Then his eyes opened slowly and he looked out through the French doors and stared across the garden. "I'm doing my best, Guinevere."

The defeat in Arthur's tone was obvious. Guinevere suddenly ached to get up and hold him, to comfort and reassure him, but fear of being rejected stopped her, so she remained seated and studied his face. In the last year Arthur seemed to have aged ten years. Dark shadows hugged his eyes and a hint of crow's feet etched them, making him look older than his years. His skin was sallow, a sickly shade of white, and his cheeks were hollow. Arthur's gaunt appearance was a constant worry in the back of Guinevere's mind, but he wouldn't listen to her concerns and said she was nagging when she brought it up, so she tried to ignore it and fed him healthy meals when he was at home, even if he pushed half of his food away and insisted he was too tired to eat.

"I know you are," Guinevere conceded softly. "Are you hungry, do you want something to eat before you go up?" She changed the subject in an attempt to deflect some of the tension in the room.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not hungry. I'm too tired to eat."

Arthur turned to go out of the room, but Guinevere stopped him. "Arthur?" A thought went through her mind.

Arthur turned back to Guinevere and heaved another weary sigh.

Guinevere stood up and tried to look Arthur in the eyes. She had to force herself not to wring her hands. "I'm going to take Llacheu and Amhar to Gwydre's grave tomorrow. I thought we might go after school. I...I think it's time they knew about Gwydre, and with tomorrow being his birthday I thought we could take some flowers and then go and have something to eat at the restaurant, so I wondered if you could..."

Arthur shook his head. "I can't, I need to be in Manchester before midday tomorrow. I need to go and see how the new apartments are doing there. There was some problem with the plumbing the last time I went and I want to see if it's been sorted out properly before I let the plumbers sign the job off, or they'll disappear into the sunset and the first tenants will move in in a few months and they'll flood the place when they have their first bath in their new home."

Guinevere nodded, trying to be understanding. "There's no chance you could get back in time to meet us up at the cemetery, is there?" she asked gently. "It's just that I really do think the children need to know about Gwydre now, and I'd always thought we would tell them together, when the time is right." She bit back an urge to say she needed him with her, needed him to help her tell the children about their older brother, who would have been nine tomorrow if he was still alive.

Arthur shook his head again. "I can't. I don't know how long I'll be in Manchester, so I don't know what time I'll be back, I'm sorry."

Guinevere shook her head sadly. "It doesn't matter, forget it. I'll take the children up anyway and tell them about Gwydre on my own, it's fine."

"I've said I'm sorry Guinevere, what else do you want me to say?" The frustration reappeared in Arthur's voice.

Guinevere heaved a shuddering sigh and shook her head again. She turned her back on Arthur to hide the tears in her eyes. "I've said its fine Arthur, really, just go to bed."

Guinevere didn't see Arthur open his mouth as if to say something. She didn't see the way he changed his mind and closed his mouth, stepping forward instead and reaching for her as she looked out through the French doors as the sun began to set over the garden, until one of her hands covered her eyes and her shoulders began to heave. Forcing down the sting of tears that rose in the back of his throat, Arthur withdrew his hands as he went to reach for Guinevere, clasping them into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white as he fought to push down his own emotion and bury it under the weight of everything else on his mind. Then, before he could change his mind again, he turned his back and left the room.

The following morning dawned bright and clear. Arthur left early, before the children were out of bed. As Guinevere laid the small table in the kitchen for the children's breakfast, Arthur stood by the kitchen sink, which stood behind the window that overlooked the small front garden, practically inhaling a mug of steaming coffee. A small leather holdall sat at his feet on the floor. Guinevere took in Arthur's appearance for a moment and thought he didn't look any less tired than he looked when he went to bed. He still had dark shadows under his eyes and his skin still had the same sickly appearance. Then again, she mused, he had been awake on and off through the night, which, along with his moodiness, his lack of interest in anything but work and his disinterest in any meaningful physical contact with her, was becoming a regular habit.

For months now Guinevere had been waking in the night to an empty space beside her in bed. Sometimes she sat up and found Arthur holding the bedroom curtains aside, looking out through the window. On other nights she woke to find herself alone in their bedroom. Guinevere was now quite used to slipping her dressing gown on in the middle of the night to look for her husband. She often found him sitting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee, but in the night she got up to look for him and found the kitchen dark and silent. The family room was also in darkness, so Guinevere went quietly across the hallway to the living room door. She didn't even need to open the door to the living room to know who would be inside. She listened carefully for a moment to the sound of stifled sobbing and her heart ached. Gathering her thoughts and preparing for what she knew she would find when she went into the room, Guinevere opened the living room door and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her.

Guinevere walked into the darkened living room quietly so as not to startle Arthur, who was sitting in the dark on the large leather sofa, cradling a thick cushion in front of his chest, his body wracked by his desperate attempts to sob without being heard.

"Oh, Arthur," Guinevere whispered softly, her own eyes filling with tears.

Arthur's sobbing stopped immediately. He turned to the sound of Guinevere's voice and straightened in his seat. Even in the darkness Guinevere could see the way his skin flushed in embarrassment. "W-what are you doing out of bed?" he demanded brusquely, his distress still lingering in his voice despite his harsh tone. "Go back to bed; I'll be up in a minute."

Guinevere pressed and twisted a dimmer switch on the wall just inside the living room door and the room was bathed in soft light. Arthur turned his face away as Guinevere walked further into the room, but she could see him wiping his face with the back of his hand and she heard him sniff. He put the cushion he'd just been cradling across his chest back onto the sofa and Guinevere spotted the tearstains on the fabric.

"I woke up and you weren't there, so I came to find you," she explained, trying and failing not to sound anxious. She could still hear the sound of Arthur's anguish in her mind. "Arthur, what's the matter?" she asked gently, gathering her courage.

Arthur didn't turn to look at Guinevere again when she spoke. He stared resolutely away from her, gazing into the cold fireplace that dominated the wall opposite the chocolate brown corner sofa in the middle of the big room. He sat upright in the middle of the sofa now, wearing a dark blue t-shirt and shorts he preferred to sleep in when the nights were warming up. Guinevere remembered how the t-shirt used to be tight across Arthur's chest and cling to his muscles, but now it seemed to hang off him, and in the low light of the room his arms and chest seemed thinner than they used to be, even in the month since she'd last studied his body up close, when she made love to him in the shower and he stood there under the water and let her do it to him without doing anything beyond the absolute minimum to actively participate in the process.

Even his climax seemed half-hearted and detached, like he couldn't wait for Guinevere to finish with him. Guinevere didn't climax at all. When it was over and Arthur escaped from their en suite bathroom, she stayed under the water of the shower, weeping as she tried to scrub off the feeling of abandonment and dirtiness Arthur had left her with. By the time she crept into bed beside him that night, Arthur was already asleep, and it had been that way ever since. Every night when he got in from work, even if he'd spent the day at his office in town, he would make some excuse to go to bed almost immediately, so by the time Guinevere went to bed he was already asleep, until he woke in the night and she went looking for him.

A derisory laugh broke the silence in the room, before Arthur found his voice again. "What could possibly be the matter?" he sniggered, without any sort of genuine amusement on his face. "I don't know what you mean."

Guinevere sat down on the end of the sofa which curved to form an l-shape. From where she sat she could see Arthur's profile, a gaunt cheek and a red-rimmed eye.

Guinevere sighed. "When I came into the room you were crying, Arthur." She continued to speak softly and tried to sound like she wasn't accusing him of anything.

Arthur sniggered humourlessly again. "What could I have to cry for?" He shook his head as if the very idea was ridiculous.

Guinevere sighed again. Every conversation with Arthur was like this lately. In all the time she'd known him Arthur had never been a public soul bearer. He could no more open up to strangers and share his innermost secrets than she could fly to the moon, until he met her friend John, in Wales, where they went while she was recovering from her breakdown. John had eventually coaxed Arthur into admitting that he'd applied for a divorce when they split up after Gwydre died, and he persuaded Arthur into talking to Guinevere and telling her what he'd done.

Guinevere could still recall the pain of that day in the hills, when Arthur told her he'd applied for a divorce in that disastrous time after the baby died and their relationship fell apart, but she knew now it was a conversation they needed to have. It saved their marriage, but it also opened up a new level of honesty between them, which had lasted until Arthur became wrapped up in the new developments he was building around the country. Now Arthur never even confided in her, Guinevere mused. He was evasive and abrupt. He wasn't nasty, she hadn't heard him raise his voice in years, but it was as if he didn't have the time or energy to care about anything, so he'd switched himself off, and she had no idea how to switch him back on again, even though she desperately wanted to.

"I...I thought it might be something to do with Gwydre, something to do with his birthday tomorrow," Guinevere said, feeling like she was walking through a minefield with every word she uttered.

Arthur shook his head and heaved a sigh. "Why does everything have to come back to Gwydre?" He took his eyes off the fireplace as he spoke. He leaned into the back of the sofa heavily and looked up idly at the ceiling.

Guinevere shrugged. "I don't know, but I can't think of any other reason why you would sit here in the middle of the night sobbing your heart out, can you?"

Arthur didn't reply. He continued to sit staring up at the ceiling. He still hadn't looked at Guinevere since she'd interrupted him when he was crying.

Guinevere sat in the silence with Arthur for several long moments, waiting for him to speak again. She wanted to move and sit next to him. She wanted to hold his hand, or take him in her arms, but she sensed he wouldn't welcome her invading his space, so she stayed where she was. "Arthur, I wish you'd let me help you," she sighed a moment later, when the silence was becoming unbearable. "I just want to help you, please."

Another humourless laugh came from Arthur. It made Guinevere cringe. "What makes you think you can help me?" he asked, his eyes glinting in the low light of the room.

"Because I'm your wife and I love you," Guinevere replied immediately, knowing it was true. In spite of the way Arthur had been behaving for months, in spite of the resentment she often felt when he spent so much of his time away, Guinevere still loved him.

Arthur took his eyes off the ceiling at last. He met Guinevere's gaze. She could see the question on his face before he even asked it. "Do you?"

Though she was expecting it, the question still stung. "Of course I do, you know I do, don't you?" She swallowed down a lump in her throat.

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know anything anymore, Guinevere."

Guinevere couldn't bear the hopelessness in Arthur's tone. "Well I do," she said firmly. "I love you and I want to help you Arthur, but I can't if you won't talk to me."

"I don't know what you want me to say." Arthur had gone back to staring at the ceiling as he spoke.

Guinevere closed her eyes as her frustration started to build. For a split second she'd allowed herself to think that telling Arthur she still loved him would encourage him to open up and talk to her, but he'd given her a glimpse of how hopeless he felt and then he'd put the shutters up again. She opened her eyes slowly. "I want you to tell me what's wrong, Arthur. I want you to tell me why you're drowning yourself in work and spending less and less time at home, with your family. I want you to tell me why, even when you are here, it's like you're not. I want you to tell me why you're ignoring our children, why you won't even take a moment to go and give our daughter, who thinks the sun shines out of you, a goodnight kiss like you used to. I want you to tell me why you can barely bring yourself to touch me anymore. I want you to tell me why you make me feel like I'm asking too much of you when I want you to make love to me. I want you to tell me why, the last time we made love, you practically stood there like a statue, while I humiliated myself just trying to get you to..."

"Daddy?" A little voice interrupted Guinevere's outpouring of frustration. She turned towards the living room door and found Amhar standing barefoot in the open doorway in her pink pyjamas, clutching George the teddy bear against her in one arm, and her other hand on the door handle, her blonde curly hair standing up in all directions and her blue eyes moving rapidly between her parents, who stared at her like they'd never seen her before.

"Go back to bed Amhar," Arthur said abruptly, breaking the tension in the room.

Amhar's bottom lip trembled at Arthur's tone. "Why was Mummy shouting?" she asked her father, her eyes filling with tears. "Why were you having an argooment with Mummy?"

"I said go back to bed, Amhar." Arthur spoke more forcefully.

At this Amhar started to cry. "You woked me up! Mummy was shouting and you woked me up!" Though the little girl had just turned four at the end of April, about three weeks before that night, and usually spoke very well, she still tended to get her words confused when she was upset. The injustice of being spoken to so sharply by the father she adored left Amhar distraught.

Guinevere got to her feet quickly and rushed to her daughter, picking her up in her arms. Amhar wrapped herself around her mother and sobbed into her neck. "It's all right my darling," Guinevere soothed gently, holding Amhar against her as she sobbed. She looked over Amhar's shoulder as she spoke and saw the way Arthur had gone back to staring at the ceiling. "Mummy didn't mean to wake you up. Mummy and Daddy weren't having an argument darling; we were just playing a silly game, that's all. Why don't we go upstairs and I'll tuck you back in and you can go back to sleep, all right?"

"But I w-want D-Daddy," Amhar hiccoughed. "I w-want my D-Daddy," the little girl sobbed louder.

Arthur didn't move. He still stared at the ceiling as if the scene playing out in front of him wasn't happening. Guinevere felt a sudden urge to shake him, but she had Amhar in her arms, so, with soothing words to her daughter, who continued to sob, Guinevere walked out of the living room, shut the door and walked up the stairs.

Guinevere pushed the memory of the night before away when she heard the front door slam. She cast an eye around the kitchen and realised Arthur had gone out to work with nothing more than a mug of coffee inside him and he hadn't said a word to her before he'd gone, not even to say when, or even if, he would be home from Manchester. The holdall that had been at Arthur's feet on the kitchen floor had also disappeared. Thinking about the previous night, how Amhar had sobbed for an hour for her father after being taken back to bed and had only drifted off to sleep again when Guinevere crawled into her little single bed and held her, Guinevere told herself firmly that she didn't care what Arthur did, or whether he came home at the end of the day or not, but she knew deep down it wasn't true.

The rest of the morning passed off peacefully. Once the table was laid in the kitchen Guinevere went upstairs and called the children to wake them, and then, once they'd had breakfast, had a wash and cleaned their teeth, which she supervised to make sure they did it properly, she helped Amhar to get dressed for preschool while Llacheu dressed into his school uniform himself. When she was helping Amhar to dress Guinevere noticed how subdued her daughter was. Amhar usually chatted away when she was getting ready for preschool, but today she was strangely quiet, and she didn't mention Arthur once.

Amhar was still quiet when Guinevere dropped the children off at school and preschool later. "Don't forget," Guinevere said brightly, kneeling down to speak to Amhar outside the preschool entrance. "Grandpa is going to pick you up later, and then we have something special to do, but after that we'll go to Uncle Leon and Gwaine's restaurant for something nice for dinner, so what are you going to have?"

Amhar considered for a moment. "Can I have fish fingers and mashed potatoes?"

Guinevere smiled and nodded. "Of course you can." She pushed away a memory of Uther telling her years ago that Arthur lived on fish fingers and mashed potatoes on the rare occasions when his nanny wasn't around to feed him and his father had to cook when he was a child. She'd joked then and told Uther that it was still Arthur's favourite before Gwydre was born, but she couldn't tell Amhar that now. Her daughter hadn't mentioned her father all morning.

Guinevere indicated to Llacheu who was standing by her side waiting to be walked the short distance to school. "Llacheu wants ice cream for dessert, so are you going to have the same, or do you want something else?"

Amhar's face brightened up. "No Mummy, cheesecake, like you!"

Guinevere chuckled, she was glad to see a smile on her daughter's face at last. "Okay then, cheesecake it will be young lady." Guinevere kissed Amhar and then stood up, taking hold of Llacheu's hand. "Right, go straight into your classroom now then darling, and Grandpa will be here to pick you up later, be a good girl, all right?"

Amhar hesitated for a moment. "Mummy?" Her bright blue eyes clouded.

Guinevere was about to turn away with Llacheu and stopped. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Amhar gazed up at her mother sadly. "Daddy doesn't love us anymore, does he?"

Guinevere sighed heavily and then knelt again in front of Amhar, just inside the doorway to the preschool. She held on to Llacheu's hand as he waited patiently beside her, and slipped her other arm around Amhar, pulling her closer. "Your Daddy loves you, both of you," she turned to Llacheu quickly. "He loves both of you more than anything else in the whole world." She forced a smile to her lips.

Amhar didn't look convinced. "But he was cross with me. I heard you shouting at Daddy and I came downstairs and Daddy was cross with me." Her little top lip wobbled as she spoke.

Guinevere sighed again and pulled Amhar into the circle of her arm closer. "Daddy wasn't cross with you darling, not really. Daddy is just very tired at the moment, because he's so busy at work, but he wasn't cross with you and he does love you very, very much."

Amhar looked up into her mother's eyes doubtfully. "More than you?"

Guinevere understood her daughter's question. "Daddy loves Mummy in a different sort of way darling, it's not more or less, it's just different."

Eventually, after a quick discussion about the ways people can love all sorts of things in all sorts of ways, Amhar went off into preschool, though it didn't escape Guinevere's notice that her daughter still seemed subdued and didn't have her usual spring in her step.

Forty five minutes later Guinevere had dropped Llacheu off at school and had gone back to the house to tidy up from breakfast and make the beds. When that was done she went to her car and set off for work. All the time Guinevere was thinking about what Amhar said. She knew how bright her daughter was. Llacheu was affectionate, much more tactile and demonstrative than Amhar. He would think nothing of hugging her or Arthur quite openly and expressing himself. Amhar was much more guarded. She was a loving little girl, but it was much more on her terms. She gave out hugs when she wanted to and wouldn't be pushed into it, but she felt things deeply. Amhar hero worshipped her father and had obviously taken his rebuff the previous night to heart. As she started her car Guinevere made up her mind that she didn't care how Arthur treated her. He wasn't being nasty or cruel, Guinevere knew that, but he was being abrupt and thoughtless, which was hurtful, but she could ignore it because she knew deep down it wasn't really Arthur. What she couldn't ignore anymore, she decided, directing her car out through the driveway of their home, was Arthur's detachment towards the children, because while she convinced herself that Arthur's behaviour would pass and he would be himself again one day, the children couldn't work out why he was behaving in the way he was, which wasn't fair on them.

Making up her mind to challenge Arthur about his behaviour as soon as she saw him, Guinevere set off for work.

Guinevere settled in to her working day and tried to put her worries about Arthur and the way his behaviour was impacting on the children, to one side. She had a number of care calls to do across the city, some to do light housework for people who couldn't do it themselves, and others to either cook meals for elderly clients or to sit with people for half an hour or so while their carers, who were often family members who looked after their elderly parents or other relatives alongside juggling families of their own, went out for a short break or to do things like shopping.

After one such call, Guinevere went back to her car, waving briefly at a client's daughter, who had just returned from a quick doctor's appointment while Guinevere sat with her elderly mother, a little old lady in her nineties who was in the advanced stages of dementia and was totally convinced Guinevere was a distant cousin on her mother's side of the family. The old lady had sat for the duration of Guinevere's visit recounting family secrets of illegitimate children and misdemeanours her ancestors had carried out, chatting away as if Guinevere knew everything about the people she was speaking of. Guinevere just smiled and nodded, happy to let the woman talk, even if she didn't have the slightest clue who the old lady was talking about.

Guinevere had just got back into her car when her mobile phone rang. She looked at the caller display and discovered the caller was Hunith Emrys, the care coordinator at Camelot Care, effectively Guinevere's boss.

"Hi Hunith, what can I do for you?" Guinevere asked, still sitting in her car outside the house she had just come out of.

"Hello Gwen," Hunith Emrys spoke in her usual calm manner. "I'm sorry to be a pain, but I wonder, when you finish your shift today, is there any chance you could call into the office, I need to ask you a favour?"

Guinevere looked at her watch quickly. "I can't today Hunith, I really don't have time. When I finish work I have to go and pick up the children from my father in law's, and then we're going to go and put some flowers on Gwydre's grave. He would have been nine today and..."

"Oh Gwen, I am sorry. I completely forgot about Gwydre's birthday today, and of course you would want to go to his grave, I do apologise." Hunith cut across Gwen urgently.

Guinevere shook her head absently. "Its fine Hunith, really, but it just means I don't have time to call in today, sorry. What is it though, is there something I can do for you?"

Hunith hesitated on the line and then spoke again. "Well, it's a bit difficult really Gwen and I wouldn't usually leave it so late in the day, but..."

"Just ask me Hunith." Guinevere grinned as she spoke.

Hunith sighed. "Well, I've got a new carer who has just completed his training and he needs to go out and shadow a carer, so he can see how the job works and meet a few of the clients he might do calls for."

"And you want to know if I'll take him out and show him, right?" Guinevere asked, still smiling.

Hunith breathed a sigh of relief down the phone. "I wouldn't usually leave it so late to ask Gwen, the day before a new carer goes out for the first time to shadow, but some of the other girls won't take him. Morgana was horrified at being asked to go out with a strange man, as if I was asking her to marry him, not work with him, and some of the other girls just didn't feel their clients would like a male carer in their homes, so you'd be doing me a real favour."

Guinevere frowned. "I'll have to give my clients a choice though Hunith," she explained, mentally going through all the people she cared for and their needs. "I know I don't do much personal care these days, most of it is cooking, a bit of cleaning, that sort of thing, but I still don't think I can just walk in to people's homes with a male carer and expect them to like it, so I'll have to give them the choice."

"Of course, I understand perfectly Gwen, so does that mean you'll do it?"

Guinevere smiled again. "Yes, of course I'll do it. Tell this bloke where my first client on my list for tomorrow lives and I'll meet him there first thing in the morning."

"Gwen you're a lifesaver." Hunith breathed another relieved sigh.

"What's this bloke's name, just so I know who I'm meeting?" Guinevere had a feeling finding someone to take a male carer out had really been a trial for Hunith. Her relief was palpable down the phone.

"Oh, it's Lancelot," Hunith replied cheerfully. "He told me he prefers to be called Lance though, so I suppose you'd better do that, okay?"

After a brief chat, Hunith was gone and Guinevere set off for her next call.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N My thanks to those of you who have kindly left reviews for chapter two of this, and of course for the first chapter. It's hard to gauge how many people are still reading Merlin fanfic now the series is fairly long gone, but even if this doesn't get a lot of reviews it will be completed, but I have to admit that reviews are encouraging.**

 **What I did forget to say when I started this story is that you don't need to have read Six Weeks To Midnight to follow this, but I think it might add a bit of depth to it if you do. The latter stages in particular of Six Weeks To Midnight illustrate how Arthur used to behave compared to the way he is treating his family now.**

 **Having avoided introducing Lancelot into the mix in Six Weeks To Midnight, I couldn't resist bringing him in to this. I can't tell you what is going to happen without ruining my story, but I do ask you to trust me and remember that I always mend things I break, so please don't panic, just sit back, read and watch how things play out.**

 **The previous chapter should have been a bit longer, but I ran out of time to do everything I wanted to do, so even though I have not submitted it as such, consider this as part two of chapter two.**

 **Chapter Three**

At the end of her working day Guinevere made a quick decision to go home and change out of her Camelot Care uniform and into some casual clothes. She slipped into a pair of jeans and a light sweater before dumping her uniform into the washing machine and setting it to wash. She was about to go back out to her car to go and pick up Llacheu and Amhar from their grandfather's house when something made her check to see if there was any sign that Arthur was either home or on his way home. She looked all around the house and the garden and found no sign that Arthur had done anything other than spend the day working, just as he said he would. Guinevere also checked the phone in the house to see if Arthur had left any messages to say he would be back in plenty of time after all and would meet her and the children at the cemetery. When she found nothing, no messages of any kind from Arthur, she grabbed the bag she used for work out of the kitchen where she'd put it down when she went into the house, and went out to her car.

A short time later, after a quick visit to a local florist for a bunch of flowers, which she placed down on the front passenger seat with care, Guinevere's car crunched across the gravel driveway to her father in law's house. Grabbing her work bag, she got out of the car quickly and made her way to the front door, just taking a moment to look at the smart front garden as she went, with its thriving plants standing tall in the late spring sunshine.

Guinevere rang the doorbell and a few moments later the front door swung open. "Hello my dear," Uther Pendragon greeted his daughter in law with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. He stood back to allow Guinevere to enter the house and shut the front door.

Guinevere kissed her father in law quickly and went through the hallway and into the living room. She looked through to the end of the room, through the wide windows of the conservatory and saw Llacheu and Amhar running around in the back garden. "I thought, as it's a nice day, a run around in the sunshine might be good for them," Uther supplied, inviting Guinevere to take a seat with a gesture of his hand towards the sofa.

Guinevere dropped down onto the end of the sofa, putting down her work bag on the floor at her side and relaxed into the plush cushions. "Have they been all right?" she asked, inclining her head towards the garden, where the children were running around on Uther's wide lawn.

Uther sat down on an easy chair opposite Guinevere, just to the side of the entrance to the conservatory. "Llacheu's fine," he nodded and smiled affectionately. "But Amhar didn't seem quite herself when I picked her up from preschool. I understand there was a bit of..." he struggled for the right word, "a bit of a problem with Arthur in the night?" "I didn't ask, Amhar told me on the way back." Uther added quickly, not wishing to appear to be prying and sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted.

Guinevere sighed. "I was hoping Amhar might forget about it during the day." She glanced out through the conservatory windows and watched Llacheu and Amhar kicking a football around the garden. Llacheu was kicking the ball expertly, manoeuvring it on the side of his foot deftly, while Amhar's movement was clumsier and less coordinated, but they both appeared to be having fun, so she left them to it. She turned back to Uther. "Amhar walked in on Arthur and me in the night last night," she explained awkwardly. "We were in the living room and I got frustrated with him and must have been a bit louder than I meant to be and Amhar must have heard me. Anyway, she came down and found us. Arthur told her to go to bed. He didn't shout at her, but he was sharper with her than she's used to and she got upset. I ended up carrying her back to bed. She cried for an hour for Arthur, but other than sending her back to bed it was like she didn't even exist for him."

Uther nodded sympathetically. "She said something about Daddy being cross and telling her to go back to bed. She said you were having some sort of argument."

Guinevere sighed again. "It was my fault, really. I woke up in the night and Arthur wasn't there. I went to look for him, just like I do every night lately, the nights he's at home anyway. I found him in the living room. He was..." She hesitated, reluctant to betray Arthur's privacy.

"Amhar mentioned something about Daddy having red eyes," Uther supplied softly. "I'm not sure whether she meant he looked tired or..." he let the rest of his thought hang in the air.

"He was sobbing his heart out." Guinevere's throat tightened with emotion as she spoke. She cleared her throat and went on. "He was holding a cushion to his chest and sobbing his heart out, but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, and in the end I got frustrated with him. I should have just let it go, I should've..."

Uther shook his head firmly. "I'm sure you did what you thought was right my dear," he said kindly. "I haven't seen my son for more than a few minutes at a time for months, but it has been obvious for a long time that he isn't himself."

Guinevere nodded and swallowed hard against a lump in her throat. "It's like living with a complete stranger. He won't talk to me, not really, and on the rare times he does he's abrupt and evasive. He says he's tired all the time, which I can understand because he's working all the hours God sends and spending hours in the car driving across the country, but on the nights he's at home he doesn't sleep well. He'll go straight to bed when he comes in from work, but then he'll wake in the night and be up and down. He won't eat properly, he says he's too tired, but he's lost weight. He just doesn't seem interested in anything but work. He doesn't even have time for the children anymore, which is so hard for them."

Uther glanced out of the conservatory window and watched as Llacheu tried to teach Amhar how to kick the football properly, before turning his attention back to Guinevere. "I'm sorry my dear, I feel responsible for all this, in a way."

Guinevere shook her head. "You're not responsible for Arthur's behaviour, you mustn't think like that."

Uther acknowledged Guinevere's kindness with his eyes. "I just can't help thinking that Arthur was wary of expanding the business at all before Llacheu was born, but I looked at his plans for those first few houses he built. I thought he'd thought of everything, his budget, his location, all the people he would need to make it a success, so I encouraged him."

"You were right to encourage him," Guinevere said, looking Uther straight in the eye. "It was a success, all those houses sold quickly.

Uther nodded. "I know my dear, but I never gave what happened afterwards a thought. Even before that, when I retired from Pendragon Homes, I never thought that Arthur would ever reach a point where he wrapped himself up in work. When I asked him to take over from me he was adamant that you would always come first, you were his primary concern and I admired that and really believed it would be good for the business because his outlook was so much more balanced than mine had been. It never occurred to me for a moment that Arthur would ever become like..." Uther stopped talking abruptly, his eyes filling with something Guinevere couldn't quite read.

"Like?" Guinevere raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Uther heaved a long drawn out sigh. Suddenly Guinevere could read his expression. His eyes were full of guilt and regret. "I never thought Arthur would ever become like me, someone who put work first and ignored the really important things in life, like his wife and children."

Guinevere's brow furrowed. "But you're not like that now, are you? Look at the time you spend with Llacheu and Amhar. If it wasn't for your help it wouldn't have been possible for me to stay at work before Llacheu started school. When Arthur started to be away increasingly often I had to cut my hours to be around for the children, but then you stepped in and I was able to do decent hours again, and you've helped out in school holidays."

Uther nodded, grateful for Guinevere's thoughtful words. "But I ignored my own son for years. I put work first and let my son be brought up by nannies while I built up the business. I let my own son think I didn't love him for years, all because I was too busy and too wrapped up in my feelings over losing his mother to spend any real time with him. Maybe that's what is wrong with him now," Uther mused, almost to himself. "Maybe this is his way of getting his own back on me, reminding me of what I was like when he was a child."

Guinevere shook her head decisively. "I'm sure it's not that," she said firmly, part of her mind wondering when Uther would ever truly forgive himself for his past behaviour towards Arthur. "Arthur dealt with all that a long time ago. He let it go and moved on ages ago, so you should too. Arthur thinks the world of you, I know he does. No, I'm certain it's not that."

The guilt written on Uther's face didn't clear. "I do feel responsible though my dear," he said sadly, his eyes drifting towards the conservatory windows to the children still playing happily in the garden together. "If I hadn't asked him to take over when I retired from work, if I hadn't encouraged him when he wanted to go into construction, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to bury himself in work."

Guinevere shook her head again. "If you hadn't asked him to take over the business from you he might have resented you for it in the end. You know what Arthur is like as well as I do. He doubts himself sometimes..."

"Which really is my fault," Uther butted in, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "But when Arthur makes a decision to go ahead and do something, he throws himself in to it. Sometimes I think he enjoys pushing himself, just to see how far he can go, which is why I supported him when he was asked to go into private construction work. I knew he wasn't sure at first, but then he convinced himself it would be good for us as a family, that the money would be good and it would create opportunities for the children. I thought we were all right as a family, we've got everything we could possibly need, but I couldn't bring myself to hold Arthur back, so I encouraged him, so if anyone is to blame, maybe it's me."

Uther frowned. "You are not to blame my dear," he said gently, looking into Guinevere's eyes steadily. "Arthur is more than capable of thinking for himself."

"Exactly," Guinevere met her father in law's steady gaze and nodded. They exchanged weak smiles until Guinevere sighed again. "In any case, I'm not sure it is just about work. I can't help thinking something else is going on. Arthur reminds me now of what he was like after Gwydre died. I know I was detached too, so a lot of it is still not clear, but I do remember Arthur taking himself off to bed a lot, especially when things needed to be done, and we didn't talk to each other. It was as if neither of us wanted to face the reality of it. Arthur seems like that to me now. It's like there is something he just can't bring himself to face, but it's eating away at him anyway."

Uther nodded solemnly. "And you think it might be something to do with Gwydre?"

Guinevere shrugged. "I have no idea. I tried to ask Arthur last night if he was crying because of Gwydre, but he practically dismissed me and seemed to be offended by the mere suggestion of him crying, in spite of the tearstains on the cushion he was holding against his chest and his wet eyes, so..."

Guinevere stopped talking when there was a sudden commotion in the conservatory. The door swung open and the children ran through the conservatory into the living room.

"Mummy!" Amhar ran into her mother's arms and hugged her, closely followed by Llacheu, who squeezed his mother affectionately and then sat down on the sofa beside her.

"Hello my darlings," Guinevere hugged both of her children and smiled brightly. "Did you have a good day at school and have you been good for Grandpa?" She took in the children's appearance. Uther had helped both children to change out of their school clothes at the end of their school day. Guinevere always made a point of packing a set of clothes in their rucksacks for school, and Amhar was wearing a little pink pinafore dress with a white long sleeved top beneath it, whilst Llacheu was wearing a pair of navy blue jeans and a red rugby shirt his grandfather, her Dad, had bought him for his fifth birthday and still just about fitted him.

"I got a star in my numbers book at school, Mum." Llacheu leaned closer to his mother to speak in a voice that was almost a whisper.

Guinevere beamed with pleasure, knowing her son struggled with numbers a little bit, not because he couldn't do it, but because he lacked confidence in his ability to do it. "Oh well done you," she hugged Llacheu affectionately.

"Grandpa has been helping me," Llacheu admitted, looking over at his grandfather with a bashful expression.

"We've been playing some games to help with your numbers, haven't we?" Uther smiled proudly at his grandson. "You're getting very good at adding up and taking away now, and you are starting to learn your times tables. You're doing very well."

Llacheu's cheeks developed a pink tinge at his grandfather's praise and Guinevere hugged him affectionately again. "You're a clever boy," she whispered in his ear. "We'll have to remember to tell Dad, won't we?"

"Ganpa is going to make us a tree house, aren't you Ganpa?" Amhar beamed at Uther.

The smile slid from Uther's face until he looked almost as awkward as Llacheu, whose colour was just returning to normal after his moment of being the centre of attention.

Guinevere's brow arched and her eyes switched between her daughter, who appeared to be restraining herself from jumping up and down with excitement, and her father in law, who looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. "Oh, is he now?"

Guinevere smothered a smile at the slightly befuddled expression on Uther's face. She turned her attention to the garden. On the wide expanse of grass there was the football the children had been playing with moments before, and a small plastic goalpost Uther had bought for Llacheu when he was a toddler, but it was still big enough for the children to use as they got bigger. At the top of the garden was a row of mature trees and a wooden double swing that swayed slightly in the late spring breeze. Below the swing bark chips replaced the grass and provided a soft surface for the children to land on in the event of an accident. The small play area was a gift to Llacheu for his fifth birthday and both children loved it.

While Guinevere looked out at the garden, Uther recovered himself. "I said I would _think_ about building a tree house when you're a little bit bigger, madam." The expression on Uther's face completely belied his tone. His eyes were shining with barely suppressed amusement now he'd recovered from Amhar's statement, while his voice gave away that an earlier discussion was meant to have been a secret, at least for a while.

Amhar was undaunted by her grandfather's tone and drew herself up to her full height. "I'm a big girl now, Ganpa!" She gazed up at Uther with a wide-eyed angelic expression.

Uther's face cracked into a huge grin and Guinevere smothered a laugh at the sight of Amhar wobbling as she tried to stand up on tip-toe in an attempt to look taller, before she had to give in and slipped down back to her feet with a doleful frown.

Uther cleared his throat to disguise a laugh. "Yes, well, you're still not quite big enough for a tree-house young lady, not until I'm happy you can climb up a ladder without risking damaging yourself irreparably if you fall."

Amhar looked at her mother in confusion. "What does irrably mean?"

Guinevere stamped down on an urge to smile at Amhar's mistake. "Irreparably darling,' she corrected Amhar gently. "It means Grandpa isn't going to build a tree house until he knows you will be safe to get up and down a ladder without falling and hurting yourself in a way that can't be fixed."

Amhar's face fell.

"But maybe I'll think about it next year, when you'll be five...if Mummy and Daddy agree," Uther said quickly, unable to bear the woeful expression on Amhar's face, which immediately lit up again and she rushed over and hugged him excitedly.

Guinevere rolled her eyes at Uther, smothering another smile, knowing perfectly well he was under Amhar's thumb completely.

"Right," Guinevere got to her feet a while later. "Give Grandpa a hug and a kiss you two; it's time we were off because we've got something special to do, haven't we?" Both children hugged and kissed Uther, who hugged them both back tightly, before rising to his own feet.

Guinevere turned to the children as they let Uther go. "Go and stand by the front door for a minute and wait for me, I want a quick word with Grandpa. Don't open the front door until I'm with you though, all right?" She knew Llacheu was tall enough to open the front door now. Though she didn't think for a moment he would ever do it, and she knew Uther had a big driveway where the children could safely play, the house was near a fairly busy road she didn't want to risk them getting near on their own.

The children left the room and Guinevere heard them in the hallway getting school bags and coats together before turning her attention back to Uther with a weak smile. "I'm taking them to the cemetery, to see Gwydre for his birthday."

Uther nodded sadly. "They told me earlier you were doing something special today and I thought it might be for Gwydre's birthday. Are you sure it's the right time?"

Guinevere nodded uncertainly. "I think so. Llacheu has noticed the photos we've got on display of Gwydre at home a few times. I'm not sure if he thinks it's him as a baby or what, but he has noticed. He just hasn't asked about it because he wouldn't, but one day Amhar will notice too and she'll have questions, so I'd rather they knew now. I just wish Arthur..." She broke off, unable to speak for a moment as her emotions caught up.

Uther moved and took Guinevere into his arms. "I know my dear, it's a difficult day and Arthur should be here to tell Llacheu and Amhar about Gwydre with you."

Guinevere eased out of her father in law's arms after a moment and searched through her work bag, which she'd picked up from the side of the sofa as she stood, for a tissue. Finding one, she quickly wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "He said he couldn't be here, he needed to go to Manchester to see how the apartments there are getting on."

Uther frowned. "Is he going to be home tonight?"

Guinevere shrugged. "I don't know. He took a bag with him when he went out this morning, but he didn't say a word to me, so I have no idea. After last night I keep telling myself I don't care if he comes home or not, but..." she stopped talking again and dashed away another tear with the tissue in her hand.

Uther sighed. "I wish I knew what to say my dear," he shook his head sadly. "I could speak to Arthur if it would help, but..."

Guinevere shook her head. "He'd go mad if he thought we were talking about him behind his back, and in the mood he's in at the moment I don't know what he would do."

"You're not frightened of him, are you my dear, because if he ever hurt you or the children I...Well, let's just say he would no longer be my son." Uther's face filled with disgust.

"No, of course I'm not frightened of him," Guinevere shook her head firmly. She was astonished by the thought that Uther would support her and the children over Arthur if he ever mistreated them. She remembered a time when Uther barely gave her the time of day, but he'd changed so much and was now openly affectionate towards her. It said so much for the change that had come over him since he'd confronted the demons in his past. "I just don't think he would take it very well if he knew we'd been talking about him, and I don't want to come between the two of you, especially now you're so close."

Uther sighed with something akin to relief, but with an underlying note of sadness. "I'm not sure my son has been close to anyone for a while my dear, but thank you all the same. I meant what I said though. If Arthur ever lay a finger on you or the children, that would be the end. I saw what my mother went through at the hands of my father and I wouldn't tolerate it from my son, regardless of what I think of him."

Guinevere nodded in understanding. "I'm sure Arthur would never do that. He's not himself at the moment, but he's not violent. I just wish he would deal with whatever is going on and be himself again. The children miss him terribly, and so do I." She blinked away another tear and gave Uther a watery smile.

"I went to Gwydre's grave before I went to pick up Amhar," Uther said, his face falling after returning Guinevere's weak attempt to smile. "I could go with you now though, if it would help?"

Guinevere shook her head and felt a rush of gratitude towards her father in law. "You don't want to go up there again today. I promised the children we'll go to Gwaine and Leon's restaurant for dinner later, so don't worry. Just have a nice evening and I'll see you tomorrow when I pick the children up."

Guinevere and Uther exchanged another brief hug and then Uther followed Guinevere to the hallway, where she rounded up the children and they went out to her car. Uther stood on his doorstep and waved them off as they drove off his driveway and then he closed his front door, fighting the urge to ring Arthur's mobile phone number and give him a piece of his mind.

A short time later Guinevere drove into the car park of the cemetery where Gwydre was buried. She stopped the car, turned the engine off and then turned in her seat so she could make out Llacheu and Amhar, who were sitting on the back seat on booster cushions and restrained by seatbelts.

"Okay you two," she smiled at them. "Here we are. This is a very special place. It's called a cemetery and it's where we come to remember people who have died." She spoke carefully, considering every word so as not to frighten the children, who were looking around with inquisitiveness. "We bury their bodies in the ground and then mark the places where they are buried, and then, sometimes on birthdays or other occasions, we come to this place and remember them and sometimes we bring flowers." She decided to pass over explaining cremations, keen to avoid a discussion on why you would burn a body.

"I thought people went to heaven when they died." Llacheu turned to look at his mother, a bewildered expression on his face. "When Mordred's Grandma died he said she'd gone to heaven."

Guinevere nodded. Mordred was one of Llacheu's school friends. He was a nice enough boy, she mused to herself, but he was quite serious and solemn. Llacheu was shy at times, but he was sunny natured compared to the slightly morose Mordred.

Guinevere considered what to say to Llacheu. "Their souls go to heaven darling, all the things that make a person what they are, but their bodies are buried."

Llacheu considered that piece of information thoughtfully and then nodded. "So Grandma Pendragon and Granny Leodegrance were buried when they died?"

Guinevere remembered telling Llacheu briefly about his grandmothers a few weeks after he started school. One evening when she'd gone into his room to kiss him goodnight he'd asked out of the blue why he had a granddad and a grandpa, but he didn't have a grandma and a granny like the other children in his class. On that occasion she'd managed to explain that both of Llacheu's grandmothers had died before he was born. She had thought then he might want some explanation about what death was and she considered what to say, but the explanation about his grandmother's seemed to be enough for him. When Guinevere finished speaking, bracing herself for a stream of questions, none came. Llacheu just gave her a tight hug and then turned over and went to sleep.

Turning back to Llacheu, Guinevere nodded, telling herself that agreeing was easier than explaining that her Mum had been cremated and a plaque marked the spot where her ashes were buried. She knew Arthur's mother had been buried. When Llacheu was a few months old Uther had told Arthur where his mother had been laid to rest. It turned out to be a churchyard just a few miles away from Uther's doorstep, but when they went to the grave, one quiet, sunny Sunday afternoon when Llacheu was seven months old, it was obvious no one had been near it for years. The grave was overgrown with grass and weeds, which Arthur did his best to clear away so he could see the headstone properly. When his mother's name and dates emerged Arthur knelt and seemed to study it. His mother's name was engraved on the dark grey stone with her date of birth and death beneath. Guinevere could still recall the way Arthur reached out with a trembling hand and traced the letters of his mother's name almost tenderly, a layer of thick black dust from the stone coming off on his fingers, but he didn't seem to care. "Hello Mother, long time, no see," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Guinevere wondered now if Arthur had been to his mother's grave since that first time. She wondered if he went on his own and talked to his mother in the way he'd always talked to Gwydre when they went to his grave. She wondered if Arthur confided in his mother now, if he knelt at the grave and told his mother why his behaviour had changed so much over the last year, because he didn't seem able to tell anyone else. What Guinevere did know is that Uther went to the grave regularly now. He'd told Arthur he was going a few weeks after their visit. Now Guinevere knew he went every Sunday afternoon, just for a while, to tidy up the grave and sit in the quietness of the churchyard with his memories.

"Yes, that's right," Guinevere nodded again at Llacheu, "but they're not here darling," she said thoughtfully. "We're here to see another grave today, for someone else who was very special."

Eventually Guinevere got out of the car and helped the children out. She went to the passenger door of the car and took out the flowers from the seat and then she took Amhar by the hand and told Llacheu to hold his sister's other hand. "We've got a little walk now and you'll see a lot of headstones, which what we use to mark where people are buried, but I don't want you to worry because there's nothing to be frightened of."

Guinevere started the familiar walk to the part of the cemetery where Gwydre was buried, the children at her side. They walked until they were halfway down a short path and then Guinevere guided the children down a row, until, slightly apart from the other graves, Gwydre's polished black stone came into sight. "Here we are, just over here," Guinevere guided the children towards the black stone, which seemed to be shining in the late afternoon sunshine.

The three came to a stop on the path just in front of the headstone. Guinevere guided the children closer until they were standing on the grass in front of the stone. Once there, she knelt and ran a finger tenderly across the gold leaf that formed Gwydre's name.

"Why has this one got balloons on it Mummy?" Amhar asked the question as her mother put down the bunch of brightly coloured spring flowers she'd brought. She placed them on the plinth beneath the stone carefully and then got to her feet again.

Amhar's eye was still drawn to the colourful balloons on the left of the stone, just beneath Gwydre's name and dates and Guinevere smiled. "Because Mummy and Daddy thought it would be a nice thing to do for the person we come here to remember."

"Dad has been here?" Llacheu asked, his eyes wide.

Guinevere nodded and took a deep breath. It was time. She moved until she was between the children and then she knelt down again until she was almost on their level. "We used to come here together and I hope we will again soon, when your Dad isn't so busy at work." She tried not to sound bitter. Taking each child by the hand, she went on, forming her words carefully. "You know at home we have photographs of both of you when you were babies?"

Both children nodded. "There's some in the living room and in the family room, but I like to look in the albums the best," Amhar beamed. "I like the photos of you wearing a pretty dress too Mummy, you look like a fairy princess."

Guinevere smiled at her daughter. "Well those are of Mummy and Daddy's wedding darling, but there are lots of photos of you and Llacheu too, but we also have some photos of Mummy and Daddy with another baby, one who was born before either of you. He was called Gwydre and he was your brother."

Both children stared at Guinevere, their eyes as big as saucers. "And he _died_?" Llacheu studied the stone again, before turning back to Guinevere.

Guinevere nodded. She could see the questions Llacheu wanted to ask in his eyes, the how and why. "Yes darling, when Gwydre was three months old he died."

"Why?" The question came from Amhar in the end. She stretched the one syllable word of her question out, as if she was asking why the sun shone or the sky was blue, just as she did when she was a toddler. Guinevere cast her mind back for a second to when Amhar was two and a half. Her every other word seemed to be why? Guinevere would watch Arthur trying to come up with answers to the oddest questions, only for Amhar to look up at him, her eyes wide with adoration, and ask him something else.

Guinevere considered her answer carefully, wanting to be honest, but not wanting to scare the children. "We don't really know darling." She knew the answer wasn't really adequate, but she didn't want to say that Gwydre had just gone to sleep and didn't wake up, which was near the truth, for fear of making the children frightened of going to bed. "Sometimes even the cleverest people can't explain why things happen."

"Were you sad when he died?" Llacheu asked the question solemnly. "Mordred was sad when his Grandma died. He cried at playtime once and the teacher gave him a hug."

Guinevere pulled the children closer and slipped an arm around each of their waists. "Daddy and Mummy were both very sad for a long time. We still get sad sometimes, because we still miss Gwydre very much, but we have memories of Gwydre that make us happy, and then both of you came along and you've made us very happy again." Guinevere forced a smile to her lips and hugged the children to her.

"When is he coming back?" Amhar looked up at her mother curiously.

For a split second Guinevere thought her daughter was talking about Arthur and was about to say she didn't know, he might be home that evening, but the thoughtful expression on Amhar's face silenced her. "Who do you mean, darling?" she asked tentatively, although the answer was written all over Amhar's face.

"Baby Gwydre," Amhar replied expectantly. "When is he coming back?"

Guinevere's heart ached. She had dreaded this question. She'd been waiting for it, preparing for it, but she had hoped she'd been clear enough and the children would understand. She heaved a sigh and collected her thoughts, before looking Amhar in the eyes. "Gwydre can't come back darling. When people die their bodies stop working and they can't come back." She said the words gently.

Amhar considered this thought carefully. "So baby Gwydre is gone, forever?" Amhar looked horrified at this idea.

Guinevere nodded sadly. "Yes darling, I'm sorry, but he is, but you've still got Llacheu and Mummy and Daddy, and then there's Grandpa and Granddad and Uncle Leon and Auntie Mithian and Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa." Guinevere reeled off all the names of the people who loved the children the most.

"And Galahad." Amhar's face brightened.

Guinevere smiled tenderly. Galahad was Leon and Mithian's son, who was born just over a year after Llacheu, so he was a few months old than Amhar and she adored him. Guinevere recalled Amhar and Galahad gabbling together when they were babies. They weren't talking, no one else could understand a word either of them said, but they seemed to understand each other, and babbled away delightedly together. Now they were older they were still as thick as thieves. Despite being slightly older, Galahad looked to Amhar for everything and was yet another person who was wrapped around her little finger. Guinevere wondered if things would change in a few months time, when Mithian was due to give birth to her second child. She wondered how Amhar would cope with having to share Galahad.

"You're not going to die, are you Mum, you and Dad?" Llacheu's voice was small as he asked the question. When he stopped speaking he bit his lip anxiously.

Guinevere's smile slipped away. She hadn't expected that from Llacheu. He was mature for his age. Llacheu's manner reminded Guinevere so often of children much older, and being tall made him appear older too. He seemed older and wiser than his years and Guinevere tried to speak to him in a way that didn't talk down to him, but every now and then he would say something that reminded her he was just five and a half. In fact, she reminded herself, he was five and a half exactly that day.

Guinevere pulled both of the children closer into her sides. "Well," she considered her words carefully again. "Everything dies darling, so I can't say I won't because that would be a lie and I won't lie to you, but I hope your Dad and I will be here for many years yet, and maybe one day we'll get to see you get married and have babies, and if we're very lucky we might even see your children have children of their own, how about that?"

Llacheu thought this over for a moment and then pulled a face. "I'm not getting married, girls are gross!" He shuddered as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Guinevere chuckled at the look of horror on Llacheu's face. "You might not think so in a few years, my darling. One day you might meet a girl and you might want to get married and have babies."

"Like you and Daddy?" Amhar's expression was dreamy.

Guinevere forced herself not to think of her and Arthur when they first got married. They'd been so much in love, completely wrapped up in each other. Now they seemed like strangers who just lived in the same house. "Yes, like me and your Daddy." Guinevere swallowed down a lump in her throat.

Eventually Guinevere decided they should get going. "You can come again soon," she told the children as she got back to her feet. "Today is Gwydre's birthday and he would have been nine years old. That's why we came today, for Gwydre's birthday, but we'll come again very soon."

"Will Daddy come?" Amhar asked the question hopefully.

Guinevere sighed softly. "I hope so darling, I hope very much that Daddy will come with us next time."

Before they left Guinevere kissed her hand and pressed it to Gwydre's name on the headstone. She had to push away the thought that if Arthur was with them he'd have said something to Gwydre, but Arthur wasn't there, so she forced the thought away and took the children by the hand again.

Guinevere was about to guide the children away from the grave when Amhar hesitated. Before Guinevere could say anything Amhar let go of her hand and walked slowly towards the headstone, where she leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the area of the stone where Gwydre's name was written."Bye, bye baby Gwydre." Amhar waved her little hand as she spoke. "Happy birthday."

As Amhar returned to her side and took her hand again, Guinevere bit back tears. Gathering herself quickly, she gently guided the children away.

A while later Guinevere walked into the Rising Sun with Llacheu and Amhar. The children spotted Gwaine immediately. He was just putting a tray of drinks down on a table for four near the big window at the front of the restaurant. Guinevere had to hold Amhar back from rushing over to Gwaine, who was placing the tray of drinks on the table where four men in suits were seated, before he picked each glass up in turn, placed it on the table carefully and picked up the tray before he wished the four diners a good evening. "Give Uncle Gwaine a moment," Guinevere whispered in Amhar's ear. Amhar stood still and waited, but Guinevere could feel her almost squirming with excitement.

Just as Guinevere finished speaking Gwaine looked up from serving the four diners. He turned towards the door Guinevere and the children had just come through and beamed with pleasure. He moved closer to the door and his beam grew wider. "Well if it isn't my favourite customers!"

Guinevere let Amhar go and she raced over to Gwaine and he picked her up in his arms. "Uncle Gwaine!" Amhar cried, hugging Gwaine and giggling when he tried to tickle her.

Gwaine carried Amhar over to Guinevere and Llacheu, who had walked further into the restaurant by now. "Hello Princess, hello Champ." Supporting Amhar in one arm while one of her arms was around his neck, Gwaine leaned down and high-fived Llacheu with his free hand and then he leaned towards Guinevere for a kiss on the cheek.

Guinevere kissed Gwaine quickly and smiled. "Hello Gwaine, how are you?"

Gwaine's wide smile remained in place on his face, but something in his eyes told her he wasn't entirely his usual happy self. "I'm all right Princess, how about you, and where's Arthur? I would have thought he'd be with you today."

Guinevere sighed knowing Gwaine knew very well that this day was significant. Gwaine had adored Gwydre and doted on him when he was born. He'd also been proud to stand as Godfather for Llacheu and Amhar when they were christened when they were both nine months old. "Arthur had to go away," Guinevere explained quickly, not wanting to say too much in front of the children.

"Yes, well, if you ask me Arthur doesn't know how lucky he is," Gwaine muttered almost under his breath whilst keeping his smile pinned to his lips. He put Amhar back on her feet on the floor as he spoke.

Guinevere ignored Gwaine's comment and turned to the children. "Why don't you two go and find us a nice, quiet table and I'll go and get us something to drink and a menu for dinner?"

"I want fish fingers, Mummy." Amhar looked up at her mother before Llacheu could steer her away.

Guinevere smiled. "I know you do darling, but I need to decide what I want, don't I?"

Amhar grinned, reassured, and the children went off together. Llacheu quickly found a table in a quiet corner at the back of the restaurant and the children sat down.

Guinevere followed Gwaine to the bar. Once Gwaine was behind the bar he turned to Guinevere and handed over a menu. "I can't believe he's left you alone today, of all days." He glared.

Guinevere sighed. Gwaine was as protective of her as he'd always been. "He has to work Gwaine, you know how it is."

Gwaine shook his head, still glaring. "All I know Princess, is that I'd give my right arm for what Arthur's got, but he seems set on trying to throw it away, and what for? Just a bloody job that doesn't even matter. He's a fool and one day he'll regret it."

"Have you seen him lately?" Guinevere asked the question hopefully. She thought Arthur might have been in to the restaurant for a quick lunch on one of the days he was working in the office.

Gwaine shook his head. "He hasn't been near for months. I'm starting to forget what the silly sod looks like."

"How's Sefa?" Guinevere decided a change of topic was in order. "I don't see her at work these days, not like I used to before..." she broke off, thinking about the time when she would work with Sefa occasionally in the dark days after Gwydre died, until she had her breakdown. "And we haven't had anyone for dinner for ages, not since..."

"Not since Arthur got his head stuck up his arse again?" Gwaine supplied, glowering darkly.

"You haven't answered my question," Guinevere said, trying to avert a rant from Gwaine about Arthur's behaviour. She knew Gwaine missed Arthur almost as much as she did, they'd always been close, but she didn't feel up to listening to Gwaine's fury, not then. "I asked how Sefa is?"

A hint of a smile crossed Gwaine's lips, but it seemed half-hearted. "Oh Sefa's fine really, she's great."

"But?" Guinevere knew there was something wrong. Everything about Gwaine's manner told her something wasn't right.

Gwaine heaved a deep sigh. "Well, I'm sure Sefa will tell you at some point, so I might as well get it over with. We've decided to knock the IVF on the head. Sefa told me last night, she can't go through it again, not after last time. It's just too much for her, the hoping and then the waiting, only for it to end in disappointment again, so we're having a break from worrying about it for a bit and then we're going to think about where we go from here."

Guinevere nodded sadly, thinking about what to say. Gwaine and Sefa had been married for just over six years. They'd been trying for a baby almost since their marriage, but nothing had happened. Guinevere knew they'd both gone through tests to find out what was wrong and it was eventually revealed that Gwaine had contracted mumps as a child, a childhood illness that causes swollen glands. The problem was that one of the side effects of mumps if boys get it is a condition that can impact on fertility. Unknown to Gwaine, because he'd lost contact with his family as a young man, he'd had this condition and it now impacted on his ability to have children. Guinevere remembered Sefa telling her on the phone when she found out the situation. She said Gwaine was devastated. For a while he even tried to persuade Sefa to leave him, to find a man who could give her the baby she craved. Sefa had stayed with Gwaine, insisting she loved him and didn't want anyone else, so they eventually set about trying to work out what to do. Since then they'd gone through all manner of fertility treatment, including two cycles of IVF, which cost them a fortune and hadn't worked.

"I'm so sorry," Guinevere reached over the bar and clasped Gwaine's hand when he put a tray of drinks, two glasses of lemonade and a glass of orange juice, on the bar. "I wish there was something I could say, or something I could do for you both."

Gwaine shrugged. "Well, there is nothing is there? I can't give my wife the one thing she really wants, and all the treatments and everything we've been through has been for nothing. It's just not bloody fair Gwen, not when other people pop kids out like they're shelling peas and then don't have the slightest inclination to bring them up properly, and then there's Arthur, two beautiful kids he can't even be bothered to spend any time with lately. It makes me sick."

"I know," Guinevere said softly, still at a loss for what else to say.

Gwaine heaved another sigh and shook himself. "I'm sorry Princess; I didn't mean to unload all this on you, especially not today. How are you, honestly?"

Now it was Guinevere's turn to shrug. "I'm all right. I took the children up to Gwydre's grave today."

Gwaine's brow arched. "How did that go?"

Guinevere dragged a smile to her lips. "It was all right actually, not bad. I had to explain to Amhar that Gwydre can't come back, and Llacheu needed to be reassured that Arthur and I are not about to die any time soon, but it was all right. Amhar kissed the headstone before we left. She said bye-bye to Gwydre, wished him happy birthday too. It reminded me of Arthur, the way he always talks to Gwydre so easily when we..." she broke off as tears swam across her vision.

Gwaine quickly looked across at Llacheu and Amhar, who looked to be involved in some sort of game like I-spy at the back of the restaurant. Seeing they were settled and not looking at their mother, Gwaine went around to the front of the bar and slipped his arms around Guinevere. "I know sweetheart," he soothed gently. "You just sit there for a minute and have yourself a cry." Then he slipped back around the bar, took Guinevere's orange juice off the tray and took the glasses of lemonade to Amhar and Llacheu, telling them that their Mum would only be a minute.

By the time Gwaine had gone back behind the bar, putting the tray he'd carried over to the children out of his way, Guinevere had collected herself. "Sorry about that," Guinevere gave him the hint of a smile. "It just crept up on me."

Gwaine dismissed Guinevere's apology with a wave of his hand. Guinevere picked up her glass of orange juice and Gwaine followed her over to where the children were sitting, having exhausted their game. "Now then," Gwaine beamed at the children, his eyes bright with humour. "What do my favourite brats want for dinner?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N My sincere thanks to those of you who kindly wrote reviews for my previous chapter. I know at least one reviewer said they thought Guinevere and Arthur had reached some resolution at the end of Six Weeks To Midnight. It's true, they genuinely did find a way through their issues, but life isn't simple sometimes. It doesn't throw one thing at people they have to get through and then leave them in peace forever. Sometimes there are repercussions for years after an event, and I think this is what I'm getting at in this, but unfortunately I can't give away any more than that without blowing my story, so watch this space.**

 **Chapter Four**

Arthur didn't go home that night. He sat in the dark in the middle of an unopened single bed in a hotel room on the outskirts of Manchester and swilled an amber liquid he rarely drank and didn't even like, around and around the bowl of a deep brandy glass, before raising the glass to his lips and swallowing the contents in one. He felt the scorch of the liquid as it went through him, leaving a trail of fire at the back of his throat and the burn of tears in his eyes. He blinked the tears away quickly, regaining control of himself, before turning and putting the empty glass down on the bedside table at his side.

Still fully clothed except for his shoes, which he'd kicked off before climbing onto the bed, Arthur opened the tie at his neck and then took it off, throwing it aside. In the darkness of the room he couldn't see where it landed. He didn't care. He released the top button on his shirt and opened his collar. He inhaled deeply, taking in a lungful of air, which he exhaled slowly as he leaned into the heavily padded headboard behind him and closed his eyes.

Even in the darkness of the room Arthur could still hear Guinevere's voice from the night before.

" _They are your children too Arthur; they don't ask much from you other than a little bit of your attention, when you can be bothered."_

The accusation in Guinevere's tone cut into Arthur like a knife. He closed his eyes tighter, trying to block out her voice from his mind, but he couldn't shut it out. Instead his mind turned to everything she'd said later, when she found him in the living room.

" _I want you to tell me why, the last time we made love, you practically stood there like a statue, while I humiliated myself just trying to get you to..."_

Arthur flinched at the memory of that night in the shower with Guinevere weeks before. It wasn't even the first time he'd held her at arm's length when she initiated their love-making. He'd been doing it for months. He told himself it was because he was working all the hours under the sun. He told himself it was because he was tired all the time and didn't have the energy, but he knew deep down it wasn't true, not completely. Arthur knew deep down that if he let Guinevere get close physically, if he allowed himself to let his guard down and love her the way she wanted him to, she would poke and prod into his feelings, she would push and push until he gave in and opened himself up to her, and then she would work out what was wrong with him, she would work out why being at work was easier than being at home, even if it was exhausting, and she wouldn't understand and she would hate him and then she would leave him and take the children away and he couldn't let that happen.

Thinking of the children brought Amhar to mind, the way she'd sobbed when Guinevere carried her back to bed. Arthur tried the push away the memory of the way Amhar cried for him for an hour after Guinevere closed the living room door on him. Even from the living room he could hear Amhar pleading for him, begging her mother to make him come and kiss her goodnight. He could hear Guinevere trying to soothe Amhar, speaking to her softly in an attempt to comfort her, but he couldn't make himself move. Only when Amhar's wailing stopped and Guinevere's voice quietened did Arthur get up off the sofa in the living room. He remembered turning off the lights downstairs automatically as he climbed the stairs. He remembered shuffling towards the master bedroom, finding the room in darkness. He made out Guinevere's form on her side of the bed. He remembered feeling relieved when he decided she was asleep. He remembered climbing into bed beside her and falling into a fitful sleep where his dreams taunted him and reminded him that he was a failure, a weak, cowardly failure.

The next day, miles away from his son in Manchester, Uther Pendragon pulled his car to a halt outside Pendragon Homes. As he got out of his car he looked at the building. He smiled when he realised how little the outside of the building had changed in the years since Arthur took over the company from him when he retired. There were still pictures of the houses they were selling in the big window at the front of the building. There was still a sign above the window with Pendragon Homes in big dark grey letters against a deep red background. There was still the company name on the front door of the building, with a black dragon on its hind legs beneath, with the contact details and office hours pasted just below.

Pushing the door open, Uther knew most of the changes Arthur had made when he took over were on the inside, mainly amongst the staff. Uther recalled how he used to treat the branches of the company as rivals, pitting them against each other, but Arthur worked differently, spreading the best of his workforce around and putting them in jobs where they could use their skills most effectively.

When he walked into the open plan office Uther looked around. It didn't take long for him to find the person he wanted to speak to. Uther made his way over to a young man who was on the phone at the back of the office and waited for him to finish his call.

"Yes sir," Percival said politely into the receiver in his hand. "Now you've given us the details we'll send someone around to take some photos of the property and we'll have it on our books in no time...That's no bother, no trouble at all," he added, after the person on the other end had obviously spoken. "Thank you so much for calling, goodbye for now." He put the phone down, which looked tiny in his long fingers, and turned to get up. It was only then that he saw Uther. "Mr. Pendragon?" His shock was evident in his tone and his eyes widened in surprise. "Were we expecting you, Arthur didn't say?"

Uther Pendragon acknowledged Percival and shook his head. "No, my son doesn't know I'm here."

Percival nodded and then seemed to gather himself. Indicating to a seat on the other side of his desk, he found his voice again. "I'm sorry sir, would you like a seat?"

Uther shook his head again. "Could we go somewhere a little more private?" He glanced around the office as he spoke, taking in the staff as they worked. "I need to speak to you."

Percival nodded and rose from his seat. For a split second Uther's mouth fell open when he realised just how tall Percival was. He stood head and shoulders above Uther, he was broad shouldered and muscular. The strength of his build stood in contrast to his polite, gentle manner, but it was still a shock. Pulling himself together, Uther followed Percival to a room at the back of the building.

Expecting to walk into an office, Uther was shocked to find a comfortable room at the back of the building. The dark forbidding room he remembered had been redecorated and was now light and airy. Comfortable chairs were dotted around the room and there was a small fridge, an area for making hot drinks and a microwave on a table along one of the walls.

"This used to be my office," Uther said, taking in his surroundings. Percival guided him to a comfortable chair and he sat down. Percival followed him, taking a seat. Even sitting down the younger man still looked tall.

Percival nodded. "Arthur changed it soon after he took over from you. He converted it into a staff room for lunch breaks and we have staff meetings in here once a month...well, we used to," he added awkwardly, his cheeks flushing.

"You don't have staff meetings anymore?" Uther asked, his brows arching. He knew from the odd conversations he'd had with Arthur about the business when he retired that Arthur was keen for the staff to feel they could talk to him about any issues they had. He was also keen for the staff to feel included in decision making, so it seemed odd to him that staff meetings had stopped.

"There doesn't seem to be much point when Arthur isn't here," Percival replied. "I mean..." He went to amend what he said, to make it sound less critical, but Uther dismissed him with a shake of his head.

"The last time I came in here Arthur was still using his office, but he seemed to like being out in the front office with everyone else. Does he still use the front office?" Uther tried to keep his tone casual, trying to make it sound like he was making gentle inquiries rather than subjecting Percival to an inquisition. It wasn't easy when he knew he was trying to get a feel for how Arthur was behaving at work whilst trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Arthur used his office when he wanted to make private calls, like if he was talking to someone about the housing development, or if Mrs Pendragon phoned, but most of the time he was out in the front office with us. Things changed a year or so ago and now he's not here so much, but when he is he spends most of his time in his office and doesn't mix with us like he used to. Some weeks he might spend a day here, but he mostly just calls in to see how things are going and to check up on me." Percival's flush deepened further.

Uther noted Percival's awkwardness. "I thought you ran the place when Arthur isn't here?"

A small huff of laughter came from Percival, which he quickly disguised as a cough. "I used to, when Arthur first moved me to this branch. When he was building the houses on the other side of town he asked me to run this place day to day, to give him time to oversee the building work. I thought I did a good job. I thought Arthur trusted me, but over the last year or so he has questioned me at every turn. He checks up on me when he comes in and questions my decisions. I used to feel like his right hand man here, but now I feel like an office lackey. I don't mean to sound disloyal," he added, before closing his mouth.

Uther shook his head. "You're not being disloyal, you're being honest, and I appreciate your frankness, you've made things much clearer to me."

Percival heaved a sigh of relief and his colour evened out. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?" He looked Uther straight in the eye now rather than averting his gaze, which he'd been doing since they went into the staff room.

"I just wondered if you had any idea when my son would be home from Manchester. I won't ask you if he's here, it's obvious he isn't." Uther met Percival's gaze and continued to try to keep his tone casual. He didn't want the young man to think he was prying into Arthur's business, sensing that if Arthur found out he wouldn't like it one bit.

Percival shrugged. "To be honest Mr. Pendragon, I didn't even know he was in Manchester. He doesn't tell me where he's going these days. He just calls in, checks that everything is being done to his liking and then goes again. It's like he has to be in control all the time Mr. Pendragon. He used to share responsibilities. He used to ask me to do things and discuss his concerns with me, but now he just tells me what he wants done and expects me to do it without question."

"He's behaving like me," Uther said, almost under his breath.

Percival heard what the other man said, but chose not to comment. They both knew it was true.

A short time later Uther got up to go. Percival rose out of his seat and Uther was once again struck by his height, but said nothing. He shook one of Percival's large hands and thanked him for his time. "I want to assure you that I won't discuss anything we've spoken of with my son," Uther said as he left the staff room and followed Percival back out to the front office.

Percival heaved a sigh of relief. "I appreciate that sir, thanks. I feel bad about talking about Arthur behind his back. Arthur is a good man really sir. I was grateful for the chance he gave me when he moved me here, and for his trust in me when he asked me to run the place when he isn't here, but I don't feel as if I have his trust anymore, none of the staff do."

Uther nodded sympathetically. "I understand and I appreciate your honesty and openness. I know it probably doesn't help for me to suggest that I don't think Arthur means to distrust you. I don't think he trusts anyone at the moment, but what I don't know is why."

Percival couldn't think what to say to that, so he said nothing. He was saved from feeling awkward again when the phone rang on his desk just as Uther was shaking his hand again. Uther acknowledged Percival with his eyes as the young man picked up the phone and then he turned to the door and made his way back to his car.

Guinevere woke that morning and turned to Arthur's side of the bed. She knew immediately it hadn't been slept in. The quilt was still undisturbed and there was nothing to suggest a head had been near Arthur's pillows. Guinevere couldn't work out how she felt about Arthur's continued absence. Part of her was glad they wouldn't have to go through another morning of awkward silences, or she wouldn't have to think before she spoke in case something sent Arthur into a mood and he stormed out, but, as usual lately, another part of her was worried. No matter how much she tried, Guinevere couldn't push the way Arthur sobbed in the living room a couple of nights previously out of her mind. As much as she tried, she couldn't wipe the image of Arthur cradling a cushion against his chest to stifle his sobs out of her thoughts, or push away the sound of Arthur's anguish from her head.

Getting out of bed a moment later, Guinevere reminded herself firmly that until Arthur was ready to talk to her about what was going on, she couldn't do anything for him and she was better off spending her time focusing on the children, who felt Arthur's absence even more than she did. She also reminded herself that she had work to do. She was meeting a new carer at her first call of the day, so she didn't have time to hang around worrying about Arthur.

A couple of hours later, with the children safely at preschool and school, Guinevere arrived at her first call. She got out of her car and locked it securely, while her eyes drifted around for any sign of someone who appeared to be waiting for her. A few minutes later a car pulled up behind hers, a shiny black sporty looking car with a soft top that was open in the late spring sunshine.

Guinevere had just decided that this car couldn't possibly belong to a carer when the driver stopped the car and got out. He locked the car and then stepped up onto the pavement where Guinevere was waiting to meet her new colleague. She couldn't help studying the man when he stepped closer to her. He was tall and dark with eyes that appeared to be almost black. Stubble caressed his jawline and his hair lay in thick, dark waves and almost reached the collar of the white shirt he was wearing. Without meaning to, Guinevere looked the man up and down, taking in the black jeans he was wearing on his long legs.

The man stood on the pavement for several seconds. Every so often he looked around uncertainly whilst Guinevere checked her watch for the time. Then, a moment later, after checking her watch for the third time, Guinevere looked up to find the man had stepped closer.

"Excuse me," the man spoke with a tone that suggested he was both amused and slightly mortified. "I have a feeling you might be waiting for me."

Guinevere had to school her expression so as not to look too surprised. Somehow she was expecting an older man, but the man standing in front of her now couldn't be much older than forty. "Are you Lance?" She tried to keep her voice even. She hoped she wasn't staring at him.

The man nodded and held out a hand. "At your service and I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Hunith told me on the phone where to find you, but I'm still finding my way around. Hunith didn't tell me what you look like and it has only just occurred to me you're wearing a uniform. I was expecting someone a little older than you." A hint of a smile curved his lips and twinkled in his dark eyes. "It's Guinevere, isn't it?

Guinevere found herself smiling back and reached out a hand. Lance's handshake was firm, but surprisingly gentle. "I was expecting someone a bit older too," she admitted, her smile widening, "and yes, it's Guinevere, but everyone calls me Gwen." A second later she realised Lance was still holding her hand after shaking it. She extricated her hand and her smile became more awkward. She wondered why she didn't tell Lance about Arthur being the only one who called her Guinevere, but she pushed the thought away and collected her thoughts. "Right, I suppose we'd better get on." She angled her head towards the house behind them and pushed the garden gate in front of her.

"Does it matter that I'm not wearing a uniform?" Lance asked as he moved to follow Guinevere through the gate towards the house where they would start the day. "Hunith said they didn't have any uniforms for men in storage at the office, so she's going to order one in for me as soon as possible."

Guinevere shook her head, turning to look at Lance over her shoulder. "No, as long as you're carrying your identification you'll be fine." She watched as Lance held up a card with his name and a small passport size photo of himself on the front in a plastic holder that clipped onto the belt he wore around the waistband of his jeans. "I will have to ask the client if she would mind you coming in with me though," she explained as she rang the doorbell. "Some clients don't really like to have new carers, they prefer a routine, and some won't have male carers, so..."

"I understand," Lance nodded, just as the front door opened and they were greeted by a lady who was wearing a dressing gown and fluffy slippers.

Half an hour later Guinevere and Lance left the first client of the day. The lady stood in her living room now, waving them off through the bay window on the front of her property.

"I think Alice liked you," Guinevere smiled brightly at Lance, who looked a bit stunned.

"Is she always so chatty?" A bewildered look lingered in Lance's eyes as he spoke.

Guinevere chuckled affectionately and thought about the way Alice talked almost non-stop all the way through her call. Alice wasn't even that old, Guinevere mused thoughtfully. She was in her mid seventies, but illness had made her become frail and forgetful, so she needed someone to keep an eye on her, just to make sure she was eating properly and looking after herself.

Guinevere had been visiting Alice on and off for years. Originally Guinevere had done two calls a day for Alice. She'd taken the call on for a while during the dark time after Gwydre died, taking the call on from Morgana, another carer, who Alice just couldn't take to. Somehow they got on well and Alice was one of the few people who saw through Guinevere's veneer of normality, or rather, she completely ignored Guinevere's detached behaviour after the baby died and just chatted normally each day, giving Guinevere space to collect her thoughts.

When Guinevere eventually recovered from her breakdown and Llacheu and Amhar came along and eventually went to school, she went back to work, discovering Alice was still on her client list. Now Guinevere did her morning call and one of the other carers went in each evening to make sure Alice got to bed safely.

"Alice is lovely," Guinevere replied to Lance's question. "She loves a chat. She has no family left of her own, so I think she likes the company, but she definitely liked you, I could see that. I don't think I've seen her that animated for a while."

They made their way back to their cars and then Guinevere had a thought. "Would you like to leave your car here?" she turned to Lance as she unlocked her car. "I could drop you back here at the end of my shift to pick up your car, if you'd like?"

Lance smiled, displaying bright white teeth. "You're an angel, I really am still learning my way around."

Guinevere climbed into her car and then reached over to unlock the door on the front passenger side, allowing Lance to get in beside her. He looked a bit strange in the confined space of Guinevere's mini, but he didn't complain about the lack of room, so Guinevere started the car and pulled out of the space she was parked in, being careful to avoid hitting Lance's car as she reversed slightly, and then edged forward into the road.

When they were moving freely Guinevere spoke again. "You said you're finding your way around. I suppose that means you're not a local?"

Lance nodded. "That's right, I moved here from London three months ago. I can drive around London with no problems at all, but I'm still getting my bearings here in Winchester."

"What made you move?" Guinevere asked, keeping her eye on the road as they drove through the city. The morning traffic was beginning to slow down after the early morning rush hour, when people were heading out to work and taking children to school, but it was still busy.

Lance turned in his seat slightly to look at Guinevere. "I needed a change of scenery, a fresh start if you like."

Guinevere nodded. "Do you have a family?" As soon as she asked the question she wondered if she was being nosy. "If I'm prying..."

Lance shook his head and a small smile crossed his lips. "You're not prying, it's fine, and I'm a widower. My wife died just over a year ago. She had motor neurone disease."

Guinevere took her eyes off the road for a moment. "I'm sorry," she had no idea what else to say.

Lance acknowledged Guinevere's sympathy with another small smile. "Thank you."

There was silence between them for a while, until Guinevere thought of something else to say. "What made you become a carer? We don't have any other male carers at Camelot Care."

Lance seemed to consider what to say for a moment and Guinevere wondered again if she was being nosy, but just as she was about to say he didn't have to answer any more questions, Lance found his voice again. "By the time my wife became ill we'd been married for fourteen years. At first, when my wife started to become more clumsy I wasn't worried. Elena had always been clumsy. She was always dropping things and tripping over herself. We used to laugh about it. Barely a day went by when Elena didn't smash a plate or a cup. On our second wedding anniversary I bought her a bouquet of flowers. She spent ages arranging them in a vase, she liked things to be perfect you see, but as soon as she picked up the vase to put it where she wanted it, she dropped the thing and it smashed. She ended up soaking wet and surrounded by the flowers and broken glass. It took us days to get all the tiny pieces of glass up off the kitchen floor."

Guinevere turned quickly to look at Lance again. He seemed to be in a world of his own so she let him talk.

"Anyway, when we'd been married for fourteen years Elena became clumsier than she'd ever been. She dropped things easily and would trip over her own feet. I didn't worry at first, she had quite a demanding job in the financial district in London so I thought she was stressed, but then her speech started to slur and she seemed to be tired all the time and said she felt weak, especially in her legs and arms. She eventually went to the doctor and she was referred to the hospital for tests. I was certain it was nothing, I was sure it was probably just a virus or something, but then they confirmed it was motor neurone disease and they said it was terminal. We were told she had between two and five years to live. In the end she lived for six years, if you can call it living." Bitterness leaked into Lance's tone.

"And you looked after her?" Guinevere spoke softly, not wishing to intrude on Lance's memories.

Lance nodded and sighed. "I'm a qualified chef. I used to work at one of the big hotels in London. It often meant working long hours, finishing late and starting early, which just didn't fit in with Elena's needs when she started to deteriorate, so I gave it up to care for her."

Guinevere nodded in understanding. "That couldn't have been easy. I've cared for one or two people with motor neurone disease. It's not an easy condition."

"Elena was my wife," Lance said simply, and Guinevere didn't need him to explain further. She thought of Arthur, whether she would be able to care for him if he became ill with a serious condition. She knew in a moment, in spite of whatever was going on between them, if Arthur needed her she would be there for him. _'In sickness and in health'_ she recalled her wedding vows.

"What about you?" Lance's voice interrupted Guinevere's thoughts. "Do you have a family?"

Guinevere blinked in surprise at the way Lance's voice had brightened. She smiled in spite of herself, her mind going to Llacheu and Amhar, but deep down she still felt the familiar ache in her heart when she thought of Gwydre. As the years since his death had gone by Guinevere found thinking of Gwydre easier, but the pain of losing him still never went away entirely. "I've got three children, well, two now, but I've had three."

In the corner of her eye Guinevere saw the way Lance's brows arched. "You don't look old enough to have had three children," he said, his tone reflecting the surprise that was written all over his face.

Guinevere chuckled and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "Well thanks, but I can assure you, I have had three children. My two youngest are at preschool and infants school."

"And your eldest?" Lance asked the question casually.

Guinevere cleared her throat. "Gwydre, my eldest, died when he was three months old from sudden infant death syndrome, cot death," she explained automatically. "He would have been nine a few days ago if he'd lived."

As Guinevere went to change gear, Lance placed his hand over hers on the gearstick. "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

Guinevere could feel the heat from Lance's touch on her skin. She heard the sympathy in his tone and turned to him. She saw the sadness in his dark eyes. "If I'd known I wouldn't have..." Lance went on softly, obviously uncertain of what else to say.

Guinevere blinked, still feeling Lance's touch on her hand. She let go of the gearstick and Lance took his hand away from hers abruptly, obviously realising what he was doing. "How could you have known?" she forced the hint of a smile to her lips. "Anyway, it's my fault, I asked first."

Guinevere turned her eyes back to the road and Lance carried on talking. "Losing Elena was tough, but I can't imagine what losing a child must feel like." He spoke almost as if he was thinking out loud.

"It was agony," Guinevere sighed, her mind going over the dark days after Gwydre died, the despair, the isolation and the endless grief. She thought of how it had nearly destroyed her relationship with Arthur and the work they both put in to get through it. She wondered for a moment if Arthur would fight like that for her now, if he had to.

"How did you carry on?" Lance asked. His voice was still low and soft. "Elena never wanted children. She was very focused on her work. Then she was ill and it was too late to even think of children. I can't imagine going through having a child and losing it."

Guinevere kept her eyes on the road. "It was hard," she said after a moment of thought. "It took a lot of time and work, but we found a way in the end. I don't think you're ever quite the same after a loss like that, but I've learned that while you never get over it, you can get through it."

Lance seemed to consider what Guinevere said for a moment and then he spoke again. "What about your husband, what does he do?"

Guinevere was almost relieved when the conversation had moved away from Gwydre. Remembering those painful days after he died still wasn't easy in spite of the years that had gone by. "Arthur's an estate agent. He ran a chain of local agencies with my father in law from the time he left college, and then when my father in law retired he took over the business. He expanded into property development just before our second child was born, five and a half years ago."

In the corner of her eye Guinevere saw Lance nod. "You mentioned three children?"

Guinevere smiled brightly. "My daughter is four, but sometimes I think she's four going on fifteen. She's very bright, they both are. Llacheu is sporty, he loves football and can't wait to be allowed to play in one of the local teams, but Amhar is a very girly girl. She loves anything pink and pretty."

"I used to play football when I was young." Lance looked at Guinevere in profile as he spoke. Guinevere could feel his eyes on her and didn't know what to make of it. He didn't make her feel uncomfortable, in fact he had a way of encouraging her to talk that felt nice after all the long, awkward silences with Arthur, but she was conscious of having known him for less than an hour and he'd already found out almost everything there was to know about her. Still, she reminded herself firmly, she had started it first, so it was no wonder he was asking questions.

Guinevere was saved from having to come up with an answer to Lance's comment when they arrived at their next call. She parked the car and Lance followed her up another garden path.

Guinevere and Lance carried on making their way through Guinevere's client list for the day. A couple of clients declined to have Lance in their homes, so he waited in the car while Guinevere went in to do whatever she had to do, but most of the clients accepted him. Guinevere watched him chatting to the various clients she went to, mostly elderly women and gentlemen. She was impressed with the warm and respectful way he spoke to people, taking an interest in them and asking them questions. He was also a willing worker. He happily helped Guinevere to do some light housework and he cooked lunches for a few of the clients who couldn't manage to cook their own meals. Guinevere admired the way he presented the simple meals he prepared, setting it out nicely so that the client could see everything on their plate and making the most basic foods look inviting. During the afternoon Guinevere sat with an elderly gentleman who usually slept all the time she was with him. Lance got the man talking and quickly discovered he'd worked in the motor industry as a young man. Guinevere was happy to sit quietly for the next hour while the two men talked about cars.

Eventually, later that afternoon, Guinevere drove Lance back to pick up his car from where they'd met that morning. She was still thinking about the elderly man they'd just left, how he'd talked for ages to Lance and hadn't fallen asleep once. She had a feeling he was going to be a very good carer.

Parking once more outside the house where Guinevere had started her day, she joined Lance as he walked to his car. "So, what did you make of your first day?" she asked, looking up at him. He had opened the door on the driver's side of the car and was standing behind it, his hands resting against the top edge of the open car door.

Lance smiled and nodded. "It was good, much better than I thought it would be to be honest." His smile widened even more.

"So I'll be seeing you tomorrow then, I haven't managed to put you off?" Guinevere wondered why the thought of working with Lance again made her feel happy.

Lance laughed lightly and shook his head. "You definitely haven't put me off, quite the reverse in fact. You'll definitely be seeing me tomorrow. Do we start here in the morning, or...?

Guinevere quickly thought about her calls for the next day. "Yes, and I'm sure Alice will be pleased," she gave Lance a cheeky wink and he laughed again. Then her face straightened a little. "We've got a couple of different calls in addition to the people we've seen today. One of them is an old lady who seems to think I'm a long lost relative, but I think it's very unlikely."

Lance chuckled. "I can't wait." He climbed into his car and Guinevere stood back, ready to walk back to her own car. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Lance smiled again, started his car and tooted his horn once as he drove away.

Guinevere smiled, shook her head and walked towards her car.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews for the previous chapter. I do appreciate your feedback. I have been spending some time thinking out where I'm going with the story. I had a basic plan, but I've been musing over Arthur's predicament, considering what exactly is wrong with him, and I now have a more defined idea, so hopefully things will move along a little quicker. I should also say that the previous chapter was going to be a bit longer than it was, but my time was short and I wanted to submit something for you, so I submitted what I had, which actually ended in a decent place, so it wasn't bad. Unfortunately when I was going to get back into the writing again I became unwell, hence the long delay with this, so I hope you'll excuse me.**

 **I enjoyed writing Lance in the previous chapter. I think I've played with his character a bit. He's probably a little more charming and forward than in the series. I wanted him to have common ground with Guinevere from the start, so making him a widower made some sense to me because they have each experienced grief.**

 **One thing I will say about Lance is that he is going to shadow Guinevere in her work for a bit longer than a carer would in reality. I know from experience that once a carer has completed their training, which in itself is not long, they shadow for a short period before they are on their own. I openly admit that I will be taking a bit of artistic licence with that, but I won't tell if you don't.**

 **I should also say that I've done a bit of research and though I've never been there, Orams Arbour in Winchester does exist and so does the Winchester Hat Fair, which is held in July each year.**

 **Chapter Five**

Almost a week later, Arthur still hadn't come home. Guinevere was trying not to worry. Arthur had been away for longer periods before, she kept reminding herself, he would probably be home soon, but the state he was in before he went away kept going through Guinevere's mind, making her feel anxious. Every morning, when Guinevere got back to the house after taking the children to school, she got into a habit of texting Arthur to ask him to call her, but he didn't reply. Every afternoon, before picking the children up from Uther's, she rang Arthur's mobile number, but there was no answer. Each time the phone went to voicemail Guinevere's anxiety rose a notch.

"Do you think I should be doing something?" Guinevere asked Uther one afternoon as they sat in the conservatory at his house and watched the children playing on the swings at the top of his garden. "Do you think I should call someone?"

The smile that had been on Uther's face as he watched the children play slipped away as he turned to Guinevere. "Are you really that worried?" he asked, his brow knitting in concern.

Guinevere shrugged. "I don't know. I keep telling myself Arthur has been away for long periods before. The last time he was away it was over a week, but he turned up in the end and was fine, or rather, he was no worse than he'd been for months, but this time he was in such a state the night before he went away, I just can't help wondering if I should be doing something more."

Uther sighed and shook his head. "I don't think there is much more you can do my dear, unless you're concerned enough to involve the police." Uther's brow was still furrowed with concern.

Guinevere's eyes widened. "Do you think I should?"

Uther shook his head and the deep line of worry on his brow slid away. "No, I don't, not just yet. I'm sure Arthur will turn up when he finishes whatever he's doing in Manchester. I'm just surprised he didn't tell Percival he was going and give him some idea of when he would be back."

Guinevere nodded. Uther had already told her of his visit to Pendragon Homes and the conversation he'd had with Percival. "I'm still surprised by how Arthur is behaving towards Percival. He used to speak so highly of him. What do you think is going on?"

Uther sighed and considered what to say. Then he spoke, carefully choosing his words. "All I know my dear, is that when I was behaving the way Arthur is now, needing to be the one who did everything, the one who was in control, even at the expense of the people I cared about most, it was because I was frightened."

Guinevere nodded slowly. "You were afraid of your grief for Arthur's mother?" She asked the question reluctantly, not wishing to upset her father in law.

Uther nodded. "Exactly, but it was also being alone with Arthur that terrified me. Even before Igraine's death I hadn't spent that much time alone with Arthur because I was always working. Looking back, Igraine saw much more of Arthur than I did in his earliest years of life, and he doesn't remember now, but he really did seem to adore her and she doted on him. I had no idea how I could be both his father and his mother to him. I didn't have any idea how I could even begin to replace his mother in his affections, so in my fear I turned my back on him and focused on the business even more than I had ever done. I know now, I took control of the business, tried to do everything and be everything, even when Arthur came into the business, because I was frightened that if I wasn't in control I would lose it. I also recognise now that the business was a prop because I didn't feel in control of my life in other ways, the ways that really matter."

"And you think Arthur feels like that?" As she spoke, Guinevere was struck anew by Uther's self-awareness and openness of his feelings. Though years had gone by since he'd begun to open up and share himself with his family, his honesty about his past behaviour still caught Guinevere by surprise at times. Now, the thought of Arthur feeling the way his father once did cut through Guinevere like a knife. She felt it intensely, almost like a physical pain. "I've thought myself that Arthur reminds me of how he was after Gwydre died, the way he took himself off to bed when something needed to be done, but neither of us could face our feelings then. What do you think he is trying to avoid now?"

Uther heaved a sigh and shrugged. "I have no idea my dear, I wish I did."

"I wish he would just talk to me," Guinevere breathed through a pained sigh. "He won't talk to me when he's here, and he won't answer my calls and texts when he's away, so how can I get through to him and find out what's wrong? I just wish he would talk to me, even if he told me he doesn't want me and the children any more, it would be better to know, but this limbo we're in is so frustrating."

Uther reached over and took one of Guinevere's hands in his. "I don't think it's that, I'm sure Arthur still wants you and the children. He would be a fool not to, and whatever my son is, whatever is going on, he's no fool. I think that time you spent apart after Gwydre died taught Arthur that he needs you my dear. I don't think he could live without you, I really don't."

Guinevere took a deep breath to calm herself. "Well he's doing a pretty good job of living without me, isn't he? He's never here." In spite of her attempt to calm down, Guinevere's frustration still simmered inside her.

Uther nodded sadly. "I know, but I think you need to give him time. He'll come round when he's ready, I'm sure of it."

"I hope so," Guinevere said softly, wishing she didn't sound so uncertain.

While Guinevere waited for Arthur to come home she tried to keep things as normal as possible for the children. She tried not to show how concerned she was by Arthur's continued absence, but kept to a regular routine of getting up in the mornings, getting the children ready for school, dropping them off and then going out to work, where she was still working with Lance, familiarising him with her daily routine with her clients and the various tasks involved in their care.

Lance was taking to the work like a duck to water and Guinevere found herself enjoying his company. She was still meeting up with him at the first client each day, before he joined her in her car and they worked through Guinevere's schedule together. At the end of the day Guinevere would drop Lance off to pick up his car before she went to Uther's to pick up the children.

The daily routine with Lance lasted until they had been working together for a few days. By that time they were working well together. Lance continued to make a real impression amongst Guinevere's clients. Nothing seemed to be too much trouble for him, he mucked in willingly, helping Guinevere to do things she couldn't manage on her own and going above and beyond the call of duty. Guinevere noted the way they worked seamlessly together, it was like they both knew what the other was thinking and carried out tasks instinctively, without getting in each other's way.

Guinevere was halfway through her daily routine a few days after she started to work with Lance when her mobile phone rang. She answered her phone and saw Hunith, the Care Coordinator from Camelot Care, on her caller display. Guinevere smiled and answered the call.

"Hi Hunith, what can I do for you, is it an extra call?" Guinevere climbed into her car as she spoke and Lance walked around to the passenger side and got in quietly. They had just completed their fourth call of the day and were off to the next one when Hunith called.

"Hi Gwen, no, it's not an extra call, quite the reverse in fact. I'm just ringing to let you know that your last call of the day has been cancelled. Old Mrs Stokes had a fall in the night. She was able to crawl to the phone somehow and phoned a neighbour who had a front door key. The neighbour couldn't really make out what was wrong, so she went round and found Mrs Stokes in a bit of a bad way, so she called an ambulance. It seems the old lady had suffered a stroke. She's been admitted to hospital, so her call has been cancelled until further notice, all right?"

Gwen frowned in concern. She'd been going to visit Mrs Stokes for some time. She was very elderly and frail. Gwen had often been concerned about whether or not Mrs Stokes should really be living on her own, which she'd been doing since her husband passed away some years back, but Mrs Stokes had always smiled benevolently, patted Guinevere's hand in a maternal sort of way and insisted she 'could muddle along for a while yet, dear."

After a moment Gwen blinked and turned her full attention back to Hunith, who was still on the end of the phone line. "What did the hospital say, how bad was the stroke?"Lance's brows arched at the urgency in Guinevere's voice and she nodded, indicating to him without words that she was talking about a client.

Hunith sighed down the phone line. "I phoned the hospital after Mrs Stoke's neighbour phoned the agency to cancel her call today. It seems the stroke has affected her speech quite badly and the right side of her body, so they are saying the stroke was on the left side of the brain. The hospital said it was a miracle Mrs Stokes was able to get herself to the phone and get some help. They said it was no wonder the neighbour couldn't understand what was going on, Mrs Stokes's speech was very bad when she was admitted. She was quite distressed too, which mad her even harder to understand."

Guinevere heaved a sigh, all too easily imagining the distress Mrs Stokes would be in. Tom, Guinevere's father, had suffered a stroke before Guinevere married Arthur. Tom had recovered eventually, the only obvious sign of any problems was the stick he used for walking, and his inability to walk very far. Then, just after Amhar was born, Tom suffered another stroke. Guinevere still remembered calling in on Tom with Llacheu and the baby by chance when Amhar was a few weeks old, finding him on the floor in his hallway at her old family home. At first Guinevere had been convinced Tom had fallen down the stairs, but it soon became obvious he'd suffered a significant stroke. Tom was rushed into hospital and his life hung in the balance for days. Guinevere recalled sitting at the hospital for what seemed like hours, Arthur sitting beside her, trying to offer whatever comfort he could while he tried to keep Llacheu, who was eighteen months old and very active, occupied. Guinevere had cradled Amhar in her arms, rocking her back and forth automatically, knowing it was as much to soothe herself as the baby. While she sat there Guinevere's mind turned to the day Gwydre died, when she and Arthur sat for ages at the hospital waiting for news, though both of them knew deep down what was coming. Guinevere reminded herself it wasn't the same, that in her heart she knew Gwydre was gone even before she tried to give him CPR in the nursery at their flat, and though her father was obviously very ill, he had been alive when he was admitted to hospital, but she just couldn't wipe away her fear altogether. Later, when a doctor appeared, Guinevere's heart flew into the back of her throat. She stood up, holding the baby tighter in her arms. Arthur stood with her, holding Llacheu, who had fallen asleep, in one arm as the child rested on his father's hip, and slipping the other arm around Guinevere, pulling her close against his free side.

Guinevere pushed the memory of that time away, reminding herself firmly that Tom had pulled through, eventually. His stroke had left him unable to walk any sort of distance, so he used a wheelchair almost permanently, and he could no longer manage the stairs at the house he'd lived in for years, but he was alive. Tom had eventually, and very reluctantly, moved into a nursing home when he was discharged from hospital. With the business going well, Arthur had offered to pay for his father in law's care, but Tom, wilfully independent and stubborn to the last, refused, saying that he hadn't worked for years and paid taxation just for his son in law to part with his money, money he could be spending on his children in the future. Knowing Tom wouldn't change his mind and respecting him for it, Arthur backed down, but he reminded Tom that if he changed his mind in the future, the money was there for his care.

A place was found for Tom in a local authority nursing home just before he was due to be discharged from hospital. He had hated it at first, Guinevere remembered, casting her mind back to how frustrated Tom got when he realised the extent to which his second stroke limited his mobility even more than his first stroke did. He hated being surrounded 'by old codgers,' as he described the other residents, and complained passionately about the endless monotony of the days. "They think all we want to do is sit around and fall asleep in front of the TV!" he said bitterly, during one particularly difficult visit, when Guinevere knew as soon as she saw him that her Dad was in a mood. "Either that or we want to play dominoes from dawn until dusk, or we want to sing songs from the war! Why would I want to sing songs from the bloody war, I grew up in it!"

As the weeks went on and Tom became more and more subdued, Guinevere talked to Arthur seriously about the possibility of adding an extension to their house, a room on the ground floor that Tom could move in to. The house already had a downstairs toilet and, Guinevere suggested, one night as she lay in Arthur's arms in bed, they could put a new bathroom in on the ground floor, which would allow her Dad to move out of the nursing home and move in with them. "I'd have to cut back on my hours at work to look after Dad as well as the children," she'd sighed, thinking that it was the only solution to the problem.

Arthur knew Guinevere was worried sick about her Dad. He went as far as speaking to an architect he knew professionally, due to working on those first few houses he built, but when they presented Tom with the idea, he refused to move in with them. "You've got your own lives," he had said firmly, looking Guinevere in the eye when she went to visit him on her own one day, leaving Arthur at home with the children because she wanted another try at talking her Dad around. "You've got two young children to see to. You don't need me around being a nuisance to you."

Guinevere burst into tears. She couldn't bear the thought of Tom thinking he was a nuisance. Her Dad had brought her up almost single-handed. He had been loving and attentive as a parent, teaching her everything she knew. He'd been there when she and Arthur had lost Gwydre, a solid, dependable presence in a world that had been turned upside down. Tom had tried to support Arthur and Guinevere as their relationship was pushed to the brink of collapse after Gwydre's death. Guinevere owed her Dad everything, she knew that, but he was being so stubborn. "You're not a nuisance!" she sobbed as she got to her feet in Tom's room in the nursing home, where he spent most of his time, separated from the other residents. She tried not to shout, not wanting the other residents to overhear her arguing with her Dad through the thin walls. "You're the only Dad I've got and I love you, but you can't go on like this!"

Guinevere tried to calm down and cast her eye around the room. It was quite spacious, with room for a bed, a wardrobe and an easy chair Tom had been able to move from the old house. Photos hung on the walls, one of Arthur and Guinevere on their wedding day, photos of Llachue grinning cheekily into the camera, and several of Amhar who was still only a couple of months old. There was a photo of Elyan in Canada, standing proudly with an attractive young woman on his arm, showing off the diamond engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand and gazing into Elyan's eyes as if he was her whole world. In pride of place on the main wall of the room was a photo of Maisie, Guinevere's mother. She was young, dressed in a short skirt and patterned blouse and beaming into the camera, but something in her eyes spoke of a woman who was already not in the best of health. In spite of her smart clothes and beaming smile, there was a fragile look about Maisie, as if a gust of wind would blow her away.

Tom's room looked out over a grassy courtyard, which had a small patio area immediately outside Tom's room, and a path split the grassed area into two halves. The path led around to the other side of the rather clinical looking red bricked building. Tom could get out of his room and into the courtyard through a glass sliding door, but he found the door too heavy to manage on his own because his second stroke had weakened him so much and he knew the staff were rushed off their feet most of the time, too busy to attend to his need for a bit of fresh air he thought, and anyway, he didn't like to be a bother.

When Guinevere was calm, she spoke again. She went and knelt by her Dad's knee and took his big hands in hers. She stroked the slightly sagging skin of his aged hands tenderly and sighed. "I'm just worried about you Dad, that's all. I just want you to be happy again. I want my Dad back. Please come and live with us. You get on with Arthur, he thinks of you as a second father, you know he does. Llacheu adores you and the baby will too. You could have your own room, your own space to do as you want, but you could have your meals with us and I'd be on hand if you need help with things. Please Dad, come and live with us, please."

Tom could hardly bear listening to Guinevere almost beg him. He considered what she said and heaved a long deep sigh. "It's not living here you know, not really. It's not losing my bit of independence and needing help with things." He released a wry huff of laughter. "It's not even the other old codgers, after all, I'm one of them now, aren't I?" He laughed weakly again.

Guinevere's brow furrowed in confusion. "Well, what is it then, tell me." She spoke softly, matching the tone Tom's voice had reached. She stroked his hand again, trying to encourage him to talk.

Tom heaved a shuddering sigh and the wall of frustration he'd been building around himself since he moved into the nursing home seemed to crack. A huge tear fell onto Tom and Guinevere's linked hands and she looked up to find him weeping. Tom released Guinevere's hands and tried to hide his tears, but he couldn't make them stop. Guinevere leaned in closer and took her Dad into her arms, holding him close as he wept. She wept softly with him and held him closer. "What's the matter, Dad?" She asked him softly, stroking his hair. "What is it?"

"I just..." Tom tried to speak through his tears. He collected himself and tried again. "I miss your mother sweetheart. I miss her all the time." He cried harder again.

Guinevere clung to her Dad while he shook with silent sobs. "Oh, Dad." She had no idea what to say to him. She continued to hold him and stroked his thinning hair gently.

After what seemed like hours Tom seemed to calm a little. He eased out of Guinevere's arms and stroked her cheek lovingly. Guinevere held his hand against her cheek, her eyes still awash with her own tears. Then Tom found his voice again. "In the house there was a memory in every room. I can remember the day I fitted that worktop in the kitchen and damaged it. I thought your mother would go mad, she could be fiery when she wanted to be and she wasn't scared of anyone, but she just laughed it off as if it was nothing. I can remember bringing her back from the hospital when you and Elyan came along. She'd been so adamant she was having children, even though the doctors warned her she wasn't strong enough. She didn't care and did what she wanted. She doted on both of you, you and Elyan. I can remember her helping you get ready for your first day at school. She was so proud Gwen, she was a little thing, but she looked ten feet tall that day. She hated it when her health got worse and she couldn't take you to school. I can still remember her taking in every detail when I brought you home from school after that. I can see you now, sitting on her knee, telling her about all the things you'd done and showing her pictures you'd drawn or painted for her, just to cheer her up, because even then you knew she was poorly."

"I always knew she wasn't well," Guinevere was weeping again. "I knew she couldn't run around with us like the other Mums could with their children, but she had time for us. I remember her reading to us and listening to us read. I can remember her talking to me and listening, really listening, when I talked to her. It was as if every minute was important to her. I didn't understand that then, of course I didn't, but when we lost Gwydre, when Arthur and I began to recover, I understood. It was like Mum knew time was important, because things can change so quickly."

Tom nodded. "Your mother knew time was precious. She filled every minute in that house, even when she began to deteriorate after Elyan was born. She made herself get up every morning, even on days when she would have been better off to have stayed in bed. She said she felt shut away in bed, as if she was already…." Another sob heaved through Tom's body. "When she died," he went on a moment later, collecting himself again. "I could still sense her in the house. On your wedding day it was as if she was there, and she would have been bursting with pride. She would have worried about Elyan when he went off the rails, but she would have loved to have seen him sorting himself out and becoming a man." Tom smiled wider. "She would have loved to be a grandmother. She would have spoilt Llacheu and Amhar rotten and she'd have probably driven you mad by her fussing over them."

Tom's face straightened. "In the house it was easy not to miss all the things Maisie missed out on when she died, because it felt like she was there, still a part of everything somehow. In here I can't sense her Gwen, and it terrifies me. Sometimes I have to look at her picture lately, just to remember what she looked like, because I can't feel her there any more. I miss her Gwen, I do miss her."

Tom and Guinevere wept in each other's arms. Then, when Guinevere could speak, she looked up into her father's eyes. She put her hand over his heart. "Mum's in here Dad, she's right here. You've moved out of the house, but all the memories are here, in your heart. No one can take that from you Dad, any more than they can take our memories of Gwydre away. Mum is here, in you. Mum's in Llacheu and Amhar, she's in Elyan and she's in me." Guinevere swallowed hard. "I know Mum feels like she's a long way away, but she really isn't Dad. She's here, always." Then Guinevere took her Dad back into her arms.

After Tom had expressed how he felt to Guinevere, something began to change. He didn't get used to the nursing home overnight, but in time he began to settle in and got used to having more people around. He eventually developed a huge social circle in the home and knew almost every other resident by name. Guinevere was just relieved that her Dad no longer lived entirely alone and was in easy reach of help if he ever became ill again, but she was glad to see him settling down and was relieved to see him becoming more like his old self. Guinevere and Arthur took the children to see him regularly, until Arthur was away working so much. Then Guinevere took the children on her own. Uther also visited often. Just as he had done before Tom had his second stroke, Uther made a point of taking him out as much as possible, so that he still felt part of the outside world beyond the nursing home. Tom still missed Maisie, but in time he seemed to have found a purpose again and somehow Guinevere knew her mother would have been pleased.

Guinevere turned her full attention back to Hunith on the end of the phone line, whilst making a mental note to take the children to see her Dad at the weekend. With worrying about Arthur and juggling work with looking after Llacheu and Amhar, she hadn't seen her Dad for a while, so she decided it was time, before he started to feel like they'd put him in a home and forgotten about him. There had been enough upset when Tom moved into the home. She didn't want him upset again.

"So, you'll finish a bit earlier than usual for a while Gwen, until I know what is going on with Mrs Stokes, or until I need to put another call into her time slot, is that all right?" Over the phone Hunith avoided bringing up the possibility that Mrs Stokes might not come out of hospital. Guinevere was experienced enough as a carer to know it was a possibility. She also understood that Hunith would only have a small window of time before she had to fill the time slot Mrs Stokes's call filled.

"Okay Hunith, will you let me know how things go on with Mrs Stokes?"

"Of course I will, and I'll let you know if I have to fill her time slot, all right? I've told her neighbour, I'll leave it open for her to come back for now, but as much as I'd love to, we just don't have the resources to leave it open for her indefinitely."

Though Hunith couldn't see, Guinevere nodded. It was much the same across the country, she knew. Most agencies kept slots open for two weeks if a client went into hospital. After that time, if a client was still in hospital, the agencies filled their slot, they just couldn't afford not to. That often meant that the elderly spent longer periods in hospital than they needed to, whilst alternative arrangements could be made for their care, but demand on the agencies was so high in most places that it was often a struggle to find slots for new clients, so it was a vicious circle.

"Okay Hunith, thanks for letting me know, Guinevere sighed down the phone, hating the thought of Mrs Stokes having to adjust to new carers whilst still recovering from her stroke, whenever she was ready to go home, but also knowing there might be no realistic alternative.

With a few more pleasantries, Guinevere concluded the phone call. She turned to Lance and filled him in on what Hunith had said.

"So, we'll finish a bit early today?" Lance asked, nodding sympathetically.

"About an hour earlier," Guinevere confirmed, taking in the compassion in Lance's eyes. He had met Mrs Stokes a few days previously and she had been very taken by him.

Guinevere started her car and drove towards her next call before speaking again. "I'm not quite sure what to do, to be honest. I still won't finish in time to pick my children up from school. My father in law picks them up for me and he will have gone out to pick them up by the time I'm finished work. They love spending time with him, so I can hardly turn up too early, but that leaves me with some time to kill."

Lance seemed to consider the problem for a moment and then he smiled and turned to Guinevere. "I was planning on taking a walk after work. There's a few nice parks in the area and I thought it might be nice to stretch my legs and clear my head a bit, would you like to join me?"

Guinevere considered for a moment. "I couldn't go too far, I'd only have about an hour. I do have my children to pick up and my father in law to consider."

Lance nodded. "I understand, of course. There's a nice place just outside the city I think, it dates back to the first century BC apparently. I thought I might go and take a look later."

Guinevere smiled brightly. "You mean Orams Arbour. They hold the Winchester Hat Fair there every summer."

Lance's brows arched. "What on earth is a hat fair?" He looked at Guinevere incredulously.

Guinevere chuckled. "It's a sort of festival of outdoor theatre. Performers volunteer to perform there and people pay for it by throwing money into the performers hats. It's still quite a big thing here."

Lance nodded and smiled widely. "Thank God for that, I imagined loads of people turning up in silly hats, or some sort of millinery exhibition. So, do you fancy it, a quiet walk?"

Guinevere thought it over. What with working and looking after the children on her own most of the time, she hadn't had any time to herself to speak of for a while. A quiet walk would be nice. With Arthur away so much she had missed having another adult to talk to too and Lance was good company.

Thinking about Arthur made Guinevere pause for a moment. Would he mind her going for a walk with another man? Though she and Arthur were each other's first proper relationship, she knew he did have a jealous streak. At times, especially early on, he hadn't really liked Gwaine flirting with her in the way he did, and Gwaine was one of his best friends, someone Arthur trusted implicitly. What would Arthur think of her taking a walk with a total stranger?

For a moment Guinevere thought of politely turning Lance down and spending the hour of free time she had gained by going home and doing some things before she had to pick the children up from Uther's. Then the days Arthur had been away went through her mind, all the time when she had the children on her own whilst also running the house and going out to work. She deserved a break, she told herself. It was just a walk in a public park, in broad daylight. Where was the harm in that? Arthur was away, she reminded herself. He obviously didn't consider her feelings while he was running around all over the country, so why should she turn down a perfectly innocent invitation?

Before she could change her mind Guinevere pulled her car up outside the house where she would carry out her next call. As she was getting out of the car she turned to Lance and smiled widely. "My Mum and Dad used to take my brother and I to Orams Arbour when I was a child. My Dad taught me to ride a bike there when I was about six. I'd love to see the old place again and a walk would probably do me good. I'd love to come with you."

Lance beamed with pleasure as he followed Guinevere out of the car and into her next call.


	6. Chapter 6

**My sincere thanks to those of you who have left such thoughtful reviews for the previous chapter. I'm not getting many reviews, I'm really not sure if many people are writing Merlin based fanfiction now so I'm assuming few are reading it, but the few reviews I have had encourage me to continue this, so I will.**

The walk Guinevere took with Lance in Orams Arbour was the first of many over the next couple of weeks. They quickly established a routine where they continued to travel together for Guinevere's round of care calls. When they had finished work for the day Guinevere would drive to Orams Arbour or one of the other parks in the area and they would get out of the car and walk for a while, or they would sit on a park bench in the Spring sunshine, making easy conversation and watching the world go by.

The time she spent walking and talking with Lance provided Guinevere with less opportunity to worry about Arthur's continued absence from home and gave her some much needed adult company. Sometimes her conscious poked at her, making her feel guilty for spending time with another man while her husband was effectively missing, but Guinevere pushed the guilt away, telling herself that Arthur still hadn't got in touch. He'd been away over two weeks by now and hadn't even picked up the phone once, despite Guinevere's attempts to contact him. She still made a point of phoning Arthur's mobile phone every day, but the phone went straight to voicemail and Arthur never returned her calls.

Guinevere kept telling herself that Arthur must be busy. She knew the private housing job took him away and demanded a lot from him. Maybe, she told herself, when he wasn't working he was catching up on some sleep. A picture of how exhausted he looked before he went away hovered in Guinevere's mind, reminding her that some rest was probably what Arthur needed, but the state he was in the night before he went away still lingered too, gnawing at her determination to try not to worry. Then, as days turned to a week and then one week became two and edged closer to a third without a word from Arthur, Guinevere began to realise that whether Arthur meant to or not, he had left her again.

Guinevere's mind kept going over the dark days after Gwydre died. At the time and for so long afterwards, the worst of those times were a blur to her. She was too wrapped up in her own pain to have much of a sense of anything going on around her, including the growing distance between her and Arthur. Then Arthur was gone and Guinevere's detachment from the world deepened, until the pain of Gwydre's loss consumed her.

It was only now, looking back over those dark days, that Guinevere realised something. As far away as Arthur seemed then, as lonely as she was, she had always known where he was. Even when she began to slip further into her own world, surrounding herself with work because it made it easier to drown out the pain of losing the baby, she knew Arthur was staying with Leon and Gwaine, just minutes away. Now, though she knew he had said he was going to Manchester to see how work was going on the properties he was building there, she had no idea exactly where Arthur was, and when, or even if, he would be back.

The thought that Arthur might not come back went through Guinevere's mind a dozen times a day. He hadn't been himself for months, she reasoned, in the rare moments when she had time to think. Perhaps he was bored with the life they had built together and couldn't bring himself to tell her, or maybe travelling around the country had brought him into contact with someone else, someone who was free, who didn't have the responsibilities of a young family, the running of a house and trying to juggle both with a job.

Guinevere pushed the thought that Arthur might be having an affair away almost as soon as it went through her mind. He would never do that, she told herself, feeling guilty for allowing the thought any room in her head. Her mind went back through the years again, back to the time when she confronted Arthur about the state of their marriage after Gwydre died, when he was eventually forced to admit to starting divorce proceedings because he thought he'd lost her. At a loss to explain his behaviour, Guinevere accused him of having an affair. The revulsion on Arthur's face at the idea of such a thing still lingered in Guinevere's mind. He looked like he was about to throw up, the thought was so abhorrent to him. His words said as much, insisting he would never do that, and if she thought he would she obviously didn't know him as well as he thought. Guinevere believed him, telling herself that whatever else Arthur might be, he wasn't a liar. In spite of everything, Guinevere still believed Arthur wouldn't have an affair. Deep down she held on to the belief that Arthur loved her and their children and would be home and himself again when he sorted out whatever was going on in his mind, but as the days continued to go by without so much as a word from him, it was becoming harder for her to convince herself.

Guinevere dragged her mind away from thinking about Arthur, reminding herself firmly that she was trying not to worry until she knew there was something to worry about. She turned to Lance as he walked beside her in the late afternoon sunshine. Having walked in Orams Arbour for a few days, they had decided to walk in one of the other parks in the area. The park they had chosen that day was just outside the city. If Guinevere listened closely she could just make out the sounds of traffic in the distance, the noise reduced to a constant low hum by thick hedges and tall trees, which lined the edges of the park and made it feel secluded from the busy city beyond. The park itself was typical of the parks found in any city. Manicured lawns surrounded neat, ordered flower beds, a decorative wrought iron bandstand stood in the centre of the park and tarmacked paths snaked through the space. Near the entrance to the park, separated from the main park by wrought iron gates, there was a children's play area, consisting of swings, a roundabout and a slide. Guinevere remembered bringing the children a few times before they had started pre-school and school. Arthur had been around more then and Guinevere could still hear Amhar laughing as Arthur pushed her on the swings. "Higher Daddy, higher!," she squealed delightedly, while the toes of her shoes scuffed as they scraped the ground. When they'd had enough of the play area the children could always talk Arthur into playing ball games with them. Guinevere remembered watching Arthur as he tried not to compete with the children. She chuckled at the memory of Arthur thinking he was letting Llacheu win when the boy repeatedly tackled his father and kicked a football deftly into a space on the ground they had designated as a goal for their game. His face a picture of concentration, Arthur made more of an effort to block Llacheu, but was flummoxed when his son was still able to put the ball passed him with some ease.

"Penny for your thoughts," Lance interrupted Guinevere's memories of the time before Arthur wrapped himself up in work and pushed his family away.

Distracted, Guinevere blinked her memories away. She smiled softly. "Oh, I was just remembering. I used to come here with my children before they went to school. My daughter loves the swings and my son loves anywhere he can kick a ball around."

Lance smiled and nodded. "You said your son loves football, is he good?"

Guinevere felt a rush of maternal pride, but tried to hold it back, knowing that as Llacheu's mother, she was bound to think he was good at everything he did, but she didn't want to play down his ability either. "I know I'm biased," she admitted, as they took a seat on a bench, "and I'm no real judge of football, but Llacheu could get the ball passed his father when he was four, so..."

Lance grinned. Guinevere couldn't help noticing the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, they illuminated his whole face. "Okay, so he is good then," he stated brightly. Then his face straightened. "I told you I played football when I was young, didn't I?"

Guinevere felt Lance's eyes on her as he spoke. He'd done that since the moment they met, she mused. He had a way of focusing on the person he was talking to, looking them in the eye with real attention, regardless of whether he was speaking or listening. It made people feel special she thought, thinking of all the clients they had worked with together. Lance had a way of drawing people out of themselves, making them feel special, just by his ability to listen and speak as if the only person who mattered was the person in front of him at that moment.

After a moment Guinevere realised she hadn't answered Lance's question. Flushing and feeling awkward, she nodded. "You did, you said so on your first day at work, when I was telling you about Llacheu and Amhar."

Lance smiled awkwardly. "Well, I have to admit it now, it wasn't quite true."

Guinevere's brows arched quizzically, wondering where Lance was going with his point. She nodded for him to go on.

Lance cleared his throat and continued to speak. "Strictly speaking I didn't play, but before I married Elena I did manage a football team in London, just in my spare time. It was a team of local kids from the secondary school I went to. I'd loved football when I was at school and played a bit, but my real talent lay in strategy, working out how to beat opponents and knowing what their strengths and weaknesses were. Anyway, when I was eighteen and was about a year into my training as a chef, my former physical education teacher phoned me and asked if I'd be interested in managing a team they wanted to start up. The idea was mainly that the kids would have fun doing something good for them, rather than going into town and causing havoc on a Saturday afternoon. Once I'd established that I could balance working with the team with my training, I snatched at the chance. I did it for two years. In that time the local juvenile crime statistics improved because all the troublemakers were either playing on my team or coming to watch us. We even won a couple of the local competitions, but the main thing was that the kids enjoyed themselves and managed to stay out of trouble for a bit. The thing is though, managing the team taught me how to tell the difference between a player who is good for playing in the local park," he glanced around himself as he spoke, before turning his full attention back to Guinevere's face, "from one who might have a chance of playing for his country one day."

Guinevere nodded thoughtfully. "Well I suppose you'd need to see Llacheu for yourself to see if he's that good," and then she allowed some of the maternal pride she'd tried to hold back to show in her face and smiled widely. "But I think he is."

"I'd be happy to come and have a look at him," Lance spoke quite seriously, as if he meant every word, "assuming I wouldn't be intruding, of course," he added as an afterthought.

Seeing that Lance was serious, Guinevere's face straightened. "I wouldn't want to take up your time, you must have much better things to do than watch my five and a half year old play football."

Lance shook his head decisively. "I don't to be honest, I still hardly know anyone here. All you would be doing is saving me from spending time on my own in my flat after work, or stopping me spending a whole weekend on my own in my flat."

Guinevere considered. Would it be right to invite Lance to the house? What would Arthur think if he was at home? She thought of Llacheu, the way he would probably be a bit shy of Lance at first, but she imagined her son taking to this man who loved football and could probably talk about it with him as an equal, which was something she just couldn't do. She pushed away her doubts about Arthur, after all, he wasn't at home, and in any case, it was her house too, anyone she invited was her own business. Turning to Lance, she met his gaze. "I'll speak to Llacheu first. If he would like you to watch him play would you like to come to lunch on Sunday? You could come an hour or so before, if you like. You could watch Llacheu play while I prepare lunch, and then you could have lunch with us, if you like?"

Lance beamed with pleasure. "I'd love to come to Sunday lunch."

Guinevere brought up the subject of Lance watching Llacheu play football when she was tucking her son into bed that night. She'd tucked Amhar in and kissed her goodnight, making sure she had George, her worn out old teddy bear, before turning off the light in Amhar's room and turning to check on Llacheu. She found him ready for bed, his bedside lamp casting a pool of light over him as he thumbed through a football annual Gwaine and Sefa had bought him for his fifth birthday.

Smiling, Guinevere sat down on the side of Llacheu's bed. With a small sigh Llacheu reluctantly put his book down and settled into bed. Guinevere pulled his covers around him and then spoke. "I have a friend at work," she explained carefully, "he used to manage a football team of children for the school he used to go to in London."

Llacheu looked up at his mother as he lay in bed, his eyes wide with interest. "Does he know David Beckham, he lives in London, it says so in my football annual?"

Guinevere smiled at the innocence of her five and a half year old son and shook her head. "No, I'm sure he doesn't know David Beckham darling, but I've told him how much you love football and he's interested in watching you play, just so we can have some idea of how good you are."

Llacheu's eyes widened and then his face straightened and a hint of anxiety appeared in his eyes. "Would I have to go to London?"

Guinevere shook her head again and the worry disappeared from Llacheu's features. He visibly relaxed into bed. "No, Lance, my friend, lives here in Winchester now. He works with me, looking after the old ladies and gentlemen who need some help to look after themselves."

Llacheu digested this thought for a moment and then frowned. "I thought only ladies looked after the old people." A bewildered expression settled in Llacheu's eyes. "Auntie Sefa looks after the old people too, doesn't she, so I thought only ladies did it?"

Guinevere shook her head and smiled tenderly down on her son. "Men do it too, sometimes. Men and women do all sorts of jobs now that they might not have done in the past."

Llacheu seemed to process this piece of information for a moment and then his face lit up again. "And he likes football, like me?"

Guinevere nodded and her smiled widened. "Well, I don't know anyone who likes football as much as you, but yes, my friend Lance likes football and he wonders if you would mind him coming to watch you play, just in the garden."

To Guinevere's surprise Llacheu's face fell and sat up in bed. "Would I have to play with Amhar?" he asked, heaving a sigh. "She can't kick the ball properly. I've tried to show her Mum, but she can't do it and…."

Guinevere remembered watching Llacheu trying to teach Amhar how to kick a ball at their Grandpa's house. She would usually have made sure he included his little sister in his games, but she did have to admit, he did have a point. Amhar enjoyed kicking the ball around for fun, but she had no real aptitude for it. Llacheu took his football very seriously and wanted to get better at it, especially in the hope that it would enable him to join one of the local teams when he reached six years old.

Settling Llacheu back down and tucking him in again, Guinevere shook her head conspiratorially. "I'll tell you what, Amhar can help me to prepare lunch on Sunday while you show Lance how good you are at football. Lance can stay for Lunch with us and then maybe we can play some games together, how does that sound?"

Llacheu grinned at his mother and nodded enthusiastically, before leaning up to Guinevere for a goodnight kiss. With a sleepy "Love you, Mum," Llacheu turned over, his eyes drifted closed and he was asleep, a contented smile lingering on his lips as Guinevere turned out the lamp on his bedside table and slipped out of his room.

The rest of the week passed quickly. Guinevere spent her time looking after the children and working. At the end of each working day she joined Lance for a walk. The time she spent with Lance was becoming increasingly important to her. She told herself it was because she rarely had time for any adult company since Arthur was away, it was nice to spend time with someone who made no demands of her and didn't expect anything from her other than a bit of company. Spending time with Lance was easy, she told herself. There were no strained atmospheres or awkward silences when she was with Lance in the way there was when Arthur was at home. She didn't have to think about everything she said in case he took offence, whereas Arthur could go into a huff over nothing and could sulk for hours. She didn't have to compete with anything to spend time with Lance, whereas Arthur had put work first for months and side-lined everything else, including her. Lance was there, she told herself, he wanted to spend time with her after work because he had no other friends in a city he still didn't know well, but nearly three weeks after going away, Arthur still wasn't returning her calls.

Guinevere had the weekend off work. On the Friday afternoon she finished work and expected Lance to suggest a place they could take a walk in. Instead, getting back into her car after their last care call of the day, Lance turned to Guinevere and asked if she fancied going somewhere for a coffee for a change. "I just thought you might like to do something different," Lance explained, when Guinevere turned to him, her brows arched in surprise. "I found a nice cafe last weekend and thought you might like it," he went on, looking hopeful.

Guinevere looked at the time and then turned back to Lance, trying to ignore the hopeful expression on his face. "I do have to pick up the children from my father in law," she reminded him, feeling uncertain about this change in their routine, even if she couldn't explain why. Then again, she reasoned, it was only coffee he was offering, where was the harm in that?

Lance smiled widely. "One quick coffee, I swear," he crossed his heart. "Unless I can tempt you into a piece of cake as well."

Pushing away her uncertainty, Guinevere took in the hopeful expression on Lance's face and smiled. "Well, if you're offering cake as well, how can I say no?"

A few minutes later Guinevere pulled her car up outside an arcade on the outskirts of town. "Is this the right place?" she asked Lance, having followed his directions to the arcade she'd never noticed before.

"This is it," Lance confirmed cheerfully. "We'll have to park the car and walk for a bit, but it'll be worth it, I promise."

Baffled by Lance's enthusiasm, Guinevere parked the car and they got out. The arcade was fairly quiet at that point in the late afternoon. It was light and bright, the spring sunshine flowed in through windows in the arched ceiling, reflecting off the white-washed walls and spotless tiled floors beneath their feet. There was a slight echo in the arcade as the few shoppers who were still around browsed through the windows of gift shops and charity shops. Somewhere in the distance a busker sang to a recorded backing track, his performance adding to the cacophony created by the footsteps and chattering of people as they passed by.

After walking for a few minutes Lance stopped outside an elegant building that had rows of small windows lined with dark oak window frames. The windows seemed to curve around the front of the building, throwing the light from the arcade inside, reflecting on the sunshine yellow walls within. Inside, wooden tables and chairs were scattered liberally around the space and black and white pictures lined the walls.

Guinevere followed Lance into the cafe, nodding her thanks as he held the door open for her and stood aside to let her in. He guided her to a table at the back of the cafe, slightly separate from the rest of the customers. "Right, what can I get you?" Lance asked, when Guinevere was sitting down.

"I'll have a latte, thanks," Guinevere went to open her bag to get her purse out, but Lance shook his head.

"This one is on me, do you fancy a piece of cake to go with it? I can recommend the chocolate cake. It's not as good as mine, but it's more than passable." He winked at Guinevere cheekily.

Flushing at the way Lance offered to pay for her drink, Guinevere reluctantly closed her bag. She wondered why he was being so kind, but told herself to stop analysing it. He was being friendly, she told herself. Perhaps she could return the favour one day. Then she remembered the Sunday lunch she had offered to cook and felt easier. Smiling, Guinevere nodded. "A piece of cake would be lovely, I do have a sweet tooth."

Lance grinned, making his eyes light up in the way Guinevere had noticed before. "I knew you would have." He looked delighted with himself. Still grinning, he turned towards the counter a few feet away on one side of the building. He returned a few minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee and a large piece of chocolate cake on a wooden tray. When he reached the table he balanced the tray expertly in one hand and put the cups of coffee down on the table.

When Guinevere noticed the size of the portion of chocolate cake Lance placed on the table she flushed again. "You're very kind Lance, but I think you're slightly over estimating my appetite, even for chocolate cake."

Lance quickly returned the empty tray back to the counter before replying. Guinevere noticed the way the young woman behind the counter followed Lance with her eyes when he walked back to the table and sat down opposite Guinevere. She also noticed the way the woman's face fell when Lance sat down with her. She was going to tease Lance about it, but before she could speak he handed her a dessert fork and held another in his other hand. When Guinevere looked at him quizzically he flashed her another grin, his bright white teeth glinting in the light. "I didn't think you'd mind sharing your cake with me."

In the corner of her eye Guinevere could see the woman behind the counter turning a delicate shade of green. Taking a dessert fork from Lance, she gifted him with a grin of her own. "Well, it is only polite to share, isn't it?"

The plate holding the rich chocolate cake sat between Guinevere and Lance on the table. Over the next few minutes they ate in a companionable silence. Every now and then, as they dipped their forks into the cake, their hands touched. Guinevere felt the warmth from Lance's skin and flushed, but he chuckled, making light of the situation. A moment later he found his voice again. "So, is the cake to your liking?"

Guinevere had a mouthful of cake when Lance spoke. She swallowed and nodded enthusiastically. "It's delicious," she took another forkful to make her point, wallowing in the rich sweetness of the cake's creamy chocolate filling, balanced by a thin layer of bitter dark chocolate covering the top of the cake. "You said it's not as good as yours though. Is that what you used to do, make cakes?"

Lance nodded and helped himself to another forkful of cake, before washing it down with a mouthful of coffee. "I was a pastry chef in London. I made cakes, biscuits, all sorts of desserts and all sorts of breads. People think it's easy, making desserts, but there's a bit of an art to it. It's important to get exactly the right ingredients and treat them with respect. A dessert can make or break a meal."

Guinevere admired the passion Lance spoke with. "You ought to meet my friend Leon, he runs a restaurant in town with my other friend Gwaine. Leon has a small team chefs under him, but he still likes to keep his hand in himself. His desserts are very good, and I should know, I've eaten most of them."

Lance smiled cheekily. "You really do have a sweet tooth, don't you?" He looked down at the plate between them. "You've eaten more of this than I have." He laughed good-naturedly.

Guinevere blushed when she looked at the plate. She really had eaten most of it. "I've had a terrible sweet tooth ever since I was a child. I've always thought the best part of a meal was the dessert. Fortunately my Dad was a good cook and enjoyed desserts too."

"What about your Mum?" Lance asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

Guinevere felt the familiar ache in her heart when she thought of her mother. "Mum died when I was ten," she explained softly. "Even before she died she wasn't well, so Dad brought me and my brother up. He did most of the cooking at home and was very good."

Guinevere put down her fork as she spoke, but before she could withdraw her hand Lance took it in one of his. Guinevere met his gaze and saw the sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry for the loss of your Mum," he said, his voice low and soft. "You've been through the mill, haven't you, losing your son too?"

Feeling the warmth of Lance's touch against her skin and seeing the sadness in his eyes prevented Guinevere from taking her hand back. She sat there, looking at Lance, absorbing the pain in his gaze, a pain she was all too familiar with. She knew he was still grieving his wife and ached with sympathy for him. "Life doesn't always feel very fair, does it?" she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.

Lance still didn't take his eyes off Guinevere. He shook his head sadly. "No, no it doesn't."

The spell between them was broken a moment later. There was a noise somewhere, perhaps from the coffee maker behind the counter. Guinevere started and pulled her hand from Lance, as if she'd just realised what she was doing. Feeling awkward, she took a sip of her coffee, barely taking a moment to notice the pattern the steamed milk made on top of the drink. A line of creamy white love hearts decorated the tan coloured liquid, from one side of the large coffee cup to the other. Guinevere didn't trust herself to say anything about the pattern on the drink. She took another sip and waited for Lance to speak again. A moment later he obliged.

"You said you've got a brother?" Lance's tone reflected none of the awkwardness Guinevere felt when she snatched her hand away from him a moment before.

Guinevere took a sip of her coffee to steady herself and then nodded. "Yes, Elyan, he's two years younger than me. He lives in Canada."

Lance's brows arched with interest. "What does he do?" he asked, meeting Guinevere's gaze over her coffee cup when she took another sip.

In spite of the awkwardness she could still swirling around inside her, especially while Lance was gazing at her so intently, Guinevere's face cracked into a smile. "He's in I.T. but don't ask me what he does because I have no idea. I can manage a mobile phone and an iPad, but beyond that I'm a complete technophobe. Elyan's a bit of a whizz with computers, but I've got no idea and no real interest."

Lance nodded and chuckled softly. "I know the feeling. Everything seems to be on the internet these days and everyone who is anyone is on Twitter and Facebook...except me. I have no interest in any of it."

Guinevere laughed. "Facebook is handy for keeping in touch with Elyan and I can just about manage that. I can just about do internet shopping and use Skype too. Elyan went abroad on a gap year after he finished college, then he moved to Canada just after I was married, so I haven't spent much time with him, but we keep in touch regularly. He's engaged to be married now to a girl he met out there. They've been engaged for ages, but typically for Elyan, there's no sign of a wedding yet. What about you," Guinevere turned the conversation away from herself, "do you have siblings?"

Lance's face straightened and for a moment Guinevere wondered what she'd said, but then Lance shook his head and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips, but the smile held no real humour. If anything, it appeared to Guinevere to be more of a grimace. "I was an only child. My father was in the army, so when I was very young we travelled a lot. We saw the world, or we would have done if my parents had got the time to actually see the places my father was stationed in."

Something bitter appeared in Lance's eyes as Guinevere listened to him. "My parents preferred to focus on the social scene wherever we were based. My father held quite a high rank, so when he wasn't working it was an endless cycle of parties and charity events for them, while I was kept out of the way. My father took a post here in Britain just before I was due to start secondary school, but being at home didn't mean I saw more of my parents. All they did was replace the old social circle with a new one. I left home as soon as I could, once I could earn enough to look after myself. My father wanted me to follow him into a military career, but I was set on becoming a chef, much to his disgust. I took some part time work to support myself through college. It was hard to juggle studying, working and managing the football team I told you about, but I loved it." Lance's expression changed as he spoke. A light appeared in his eyes. "I made friends at college and at work. For the first time in my life I felt like I was part of something and had people who were genuinely interested in me."

"What were you doing to pay your way through college?" Guinevere asked.

Lance's smile widened. "Believe it or not, I worked in a cafe, I did nights and Saturday mornings. It wasn't like this," he glanced around at the tables and chairs, the bright, clean walls and the smart pictures, "it was more of a greasy spoon type of place, but the money was just enough for me to manage on and I could do hours that fitted around the other things in my life." A small huff of laughter came out of Lance's mouth a moment later. "Would you believe, I met Elena at that cafe?"

Guinevere's brows arched in surprise. "How did that happen?" she asked, thoroughly absorbed in Lance's story.

Lance laughed softly. "Elena was studying at a local business school. She was clever even then, brilliant at maths, it was obvious she was going to be a real high flyer. She came into the cafe after her Saturday morning jogging. She liked to run, she said she found it relaxing, but that day she managed to trip over herself when she was jogging and she sprained her ankle. She managed to limp to the cafe somehow. I served her a mug of tea because there were no cups in the place. I can see her now Gwen, this clumsy girl with a public school accent, who liked everything just so, sitting in this grubby cafe, her foot up on a chair that had seen better days, sipping her tea as daintily as she could out of a mug, while all the local ruffians tried to catch her eye. We got chatting eventually and found we had a lot in common, we liked the same sort of music and she enjoyed sport, like me. She stayed until my shift finished at the cafe. By then I'd got my first car, which wasn't much better than a wheelbarrow with a motor, but I offered her a lift home. She was still living with her parents then, so I took her back to this big house with two cars on the drive. I had the nerve to ask for her phone number just before I left her. I couldn't believe it when she gave it to me. I phoned her after football training with the kids that afternoon. I was a bit surprised she still remembered me, but she agreed to go out with me when I had a night off work and studying and things took off from there. We were married a couple of years later and had twenty years together, even if the last six of them were a nightmare."

Guinevere saw the joy in Lance's eyes as he spoke of his late wife turn to bitterness when he reached the end of his story and her heart went out to him. "You must have loved her very much," she said thoughtfully. Without thinking she reached over the table and took his hand.

Lance heaved a sigh and held Guinevere's hand tightly in his. He nodded hesitantly, stroking her fingers absent-mindedly as he spoke. "I suppose I must have done then, but the years of her illness took the joy out of it. Elena became a shell of herself by the end. All her intelligence was still there, locked up inside her, but she couldn't express it, which was frustrating for her. I took the brunt of her frustration because I was there all the time. She didn't have the physical strength to be violent, and that wouldn't have been her way anyway, but she could say things for a long time, nasty things I knew she didn't mean, but they were still hurtful, but then, when she couldn't communicate any more, there was the silence. I think that was the worst thing."

Guinevere nodded sympathetically. "Caring for someone you love must be so hard, but you stayed and did it Lance, that must mean something."

Lance heaved another heavy sigh and looked into Guinevere's eyes. "Elena was my wife, it was my duty to look after her, but as much as I'm glad I did it, sometimes I think it has tarnished my memories of her. I think of her now and all I can really think of is the woman she became because of the illness. It's harder to remember her as she was before."

"Did your parents like Elena?" Gwen asked gently. She could feel the touch of his thumb against her fingers. Part of her knew she should take her hand back, but she couldn't make herself move.

A small huff of bitter laughter came out of Lance's mouth. "At first they did. I made an effort to keep in touch with them when I moved into a place of my own. I didn't think it would be right to cut them off altogether. When things were becoming serious between me and Elena I took her to meet them. They fell over themselves to impress her. They heard the way she spoke and found out that her Dad was quite well off and set out to ingratiate themselves. Things changed quite quickly after Elena and I were married, when my parents realised she wasn't going to be the typical stay at home little wife. When my parents realised no grandchildren were in the offing they stopped even pretending to get on with Elena, so I stopped making the effort to see them. I didn't even bother to let them know when Elena became ill. I suppose they must know she died, but they didn't get in touch and they didn't go to her funeral. By then Elena's parents were more my family than my own were, but I didn't see as much of them after she died, it was just too difficult. Elena's mother phones every so often, but it's not the same."

When Lance stopped talking the two of them sat in silence for several long minutes. Lance was still holding Guinevere's hand in his, stroking her fingers idly with his thumb when it occurred to her that it had gone a bit dull in the cafe. Something made her raise her other hand to look at her watch. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her other hand back from Lance, dragging him out of his reverie abruptly. As she jumped up her chair squeaked across the tiled cafe floor. "Oh my God, I need to go!"

Lance blinked and got to his feet. "Hey, what's the rush?" he asked as Guinevere began to move towards the cafe door.

"I've got to go and pick up my children Lance, I'm over half an hour late!" Guinevere's heart was pounding. All she could think about was how quickly she could get through the traffic to Llacheu and Amhar. She knew how worried they got when they didn't know where she was. She knew they would probably be getting upset by now.

Lance caught up with Guinevere as she reached for the door to the cafe. "Surely your children will be all right for a while, didn't you say they're with your father in law?"

Guinevere nodded quickly as they left the cafe. "They are, but they don't like me being late to pick them up, it worries them. They're used to my routine, they know when to expect me. They'll be in such a state by the time I get to my father in law's, I'm so late!" By now she was almost running through the arcade, leaving Lance to trail in her wake. Her heart was racing so much she almost felt sick and panic was starting to build inside her.

By the time Guinevere got to her car she was shaking. She dashed round to the drivers side and opened her door. She looked up at Lance, who was still following her. "I'll drop you off at your car Lance, but I won't have time to hang around, all right?"

Lance stopped moving and stepped back from the car, making a decision. "Tell you what, you get going, I can walk back to my car from here, or jump on a bus or something. It's my fault you're late, the least I can do is not make it worse."

Guinevere was halfway into the car when Lance spoke. She got out and turned to him. "Don't be silly, I do have time to take you back to your car, I'm just worried about the children. Get in and I'll drop you off on my way."

Lance shook his head and stepped back again. "No, honestly, you get going. I'll see you on Sunday to watch Llacheu." His face lit up into a smile. "I'll bring dessert, all right?"

Guinevere hesitated for a moment, and then thoughts of the state Llacheu and Amhar would be in by now washed over her again. Thanking Lance with her eyes, she jumped into her car as quickly as she could and drove away.

Some time later Guinevere pulled her car onto Uther's drive. She jumped out of the car and raced to his front door. She just had time to catch her breath before Uther answered her ringing the doorbell. "I'm so sorry!" she greeted her father in law when he opened his mouth to greet her. "I got delayed at work and didn't get a chance to ring and let you know I might be late." She heard herself tell the lie and cringed inwardly.

Uther shook his head and stepped closer to Guinevere to drop a kiss on her cheek. "Don't worry about it, the children were just starting to wonder where you'd got to, but they're fine really, there's no rush. They're in the living room watching television."

Guinevere followed her father in law into the house. The panic she'd felt over being late to pick up the children was quickly being replaced by guilt. The lie she'd just told so easily made her feel worse. She wondered why she hadn't told the truth, after all, she could have just said she'd had coffee with a friend from work and Uther would probably have accepted it. She forced away the memory of the way she sat holding Lance's hand when he talked about Elena in the cafe, her guilt rising another notch.

A moment later Guinevere was almost crushed when two bodies rushed into her arms. "Mummy, you're late," Amhar frowned. The look on her daughter's face reminded Guinevere of Uther before he gave up work and came to terms with his past.

Guinevere hugged both of the children to herself. "I'm so sorry," she said, when she could extract herself out of the tight hold they had on her. "I got delayed and didn't realise the time." She told herself that wasn't exactly a lie. "Have you both been good?"

Twenty minutes later Guinevere was on her way home with the children. It was only much later, when the children were safely tucked up in bed and she was just about to slide into sleep herself, she realised she hadn't tried to get in touch with Arthur at all that day.


	7. Chapter 7

**My thanks to those of you who left such thoughtful reviews for chapter six. Your feedback is a real encouragement to me. I'm delighted to see your enthusiasm for whatever is coming and I hope I can live up to your expectations.**

 **One of the things I enjoyed writing in the previous chapter was Lance's back story. It's important to me that he seems real, not exactly like he was in the series possibly, but with elements of that. Somehow the idea of him being a widower who looked after his wife before she died and was an only child with aloof and remote parents seemed to click. I was keen to try to avoid making him a caricature of a playboy type, but it was important to me to get a feel of him being charming and approachable and able to find some common ground with Guinevere that would draw them together. I hope I got the balance right with that.**

 **Anyway, onward. My apologies, by the way, to those of you with delicate stomachs who might find part of this chapter a little bit disturbing, but it is necessary for plot development. I should also apologise for being so much later than I intended to get this done and uploaded. Since I wrote chapter 6 I've had some health problems again. I've had laryngitis twice, which knocked me around a lot, and then I was just getting back to normal when I hurt my back again, making sitting to write for any period of time extremely painful. I'm better now and will try to avoid keeping you waiting for much longer in future. This is essentially a short story and I'm keen to get on with it. Anyway, back to the plot….**

Guinevere woke with a start on Saturday morning. She jumped out of bed and ran in her night shirt and bare feet to the bathroom. She just had time to lock herself in the bathroom, kneel in front of the toilet and push her hair out of the way before her stomach emptied itself into the pan of the toilet. When, a few moments later, she was finished, she grabbed some toilet paper from the roll next to the toilet and wiped her mouth, before grabbing another piece to wipe her eyes clear of the tears that had fallen automatically when she vomited. Flushing the toilet, she stood up slowly and put the toilet seat lid down, sitting down on it for a moment to gather herself.

"Mummy!" A startled voice broke the silence a few seconds after the noise of the flushing toilet had died away. The bathroom door handle turned as someone tried to get into the room. "Mummy!" the voice called again, sounding a little more anxious.

Guinevere stood on shaking legs and gingerly made her way to the bathroom door. She turned the lock and opened the door slowly, to be confronted by her children, who were standing in the hallway in their night clothes looking worried. Amhar immediately rushed at her mother, holding her tightly around the legs, before looking up into her eyes. "I went into your room Mummy!" she cried anxiously. "I knocked on the door like you said, but it was open, so I went in and you weren't there, and then Llacheu got up and we heard you being sick in the bathroom!" Amhar's eyes were wide and she held on to Guinevere as tightly as she could.

Llacheu stood to one side in his mother while his younger sister clutched at her legs. He put a gentle hand on Guinevere's arm as she held Amhar's head against her body and stroked her hair to calm her. "Are you poorly Mum, we heard you being sick?"

Guinevere took one of her hands away from Amhar's hair and slipped it around her son, holding him to her side. "I'm all right my darlings," she said softly. "I just felt a little bit sick for a moment, but I feel much better now." It was true, she thought. She'd woken up knowing she was about to be sick, but she felt better now. She still felt a bit nauseous and out of sorts, but she didn't feel like she was going to be sick again, not just yet anyway. "Perhaps I've eaten something that didn't agree with me," she said to the children, dragging her lips into a reluctant smile, but a little voice in the back of her mind poked at her and she wondered. She tried to tell herself that something she'd cooked for dinner the previous night might have been slightly off, but the children seemed fine. Then she tried to tell herself she'd probably picked up a bug from someone at work, perhaps a client had a bug she didn't know about, but deep down she knew that made no sense. The voice in the back of her mind, which she was trying to ignore, gave her another nudge. Perhaps, she told herself, the chocolate cake she'd eaten with Lance had been too rich for her. Even the voice in her head knew that was ridiculous, she'd eaten rich cakes before and they'd never made her sick. Guinevere turned her attention back to the children. "You were very good to remember to knock my bedroom door, like Daddy and I told you, but you don't need to worry, I feel much better now, truly." She smiled widely at them both. "Now, I think it's about time you both got some breakfast, don't you?" She resolutely ignored the way her stomach rolled at the thought of eating. Trying to ignore the way her stomach was churning at the thought of food, Guinevere cast her mind back to a time when both of the children had started to be a bit more independent and get themselves out of bed. Even when they were both young toddlers, Guinevere and Arthur had taught the children to knock on their bedroom door before going in. It taught the children to respect other people's personal space, but it also prevented several embarrassing moments when, in happy times, she and Arthur had indulged in early morning love-making. They'd had a few narrow escapes, when one of the children had knocked and then burst in immediately, leaving their parents to scramble under the bedclothes, but soon it had become a habit. Now it was ingrained in the children and Guinevere was proud of their thoughtfulness.

A few minutes later Guinevere was downstairs, in the kitchen with the children. They sat at the small kitchen table, the one she and Arthur had brought with them from their old flat before Llacheu was born. Guinevere was getting breakfast bowls and spoons out for the children, before pouring some cereal into the bowls. She put the bowls and spoons in front of the children and went to the fridge for milk. When she went back to the table and poured the milk over the cereal the smell of the fresh milk hit her and her stomach rolled again. She braced herself, willing herself not to show any sign there was a problem that would worry the children. She put the milk back in the fridge quickly when she was finished with it. "You two sit and eat your breakfast nicely," she told the children, trying to sound calm. "I just have something to do upstairs."

The children nodded obediently, their mouths full of cereal. Knowing they would be occupied with their breakfast for a few minutes, Guinevere made her escape from the kitchen. She almost ran back up the stairs to the bathroom and just had time to reach the toilet before she was sick again.

Cleaning up after herself when she was finished, Guinevere went into her bedroom. The handbag she used most often was hanging on the back of the bedroom door, from the door handle. Guinevere opened the bag, dragged out her diary and flicked through a few pages, before moving to the open bed and sitting down. When she was sitting she flicked through the diary again, just to be sure, but the truth was obvious now.

Guinevere thought of the last time she had made love with Arthur, in the shower almost seven weeks previously, before he went to Manchester and just after he had come back from another period of time away. He'd been so cold towards her, so detached. He'd gone through the motions, but Guinevere had needed to coax him into a state where he could do it. The end had been abrupt, she'd been left feeling dirty and dissatisfied, while Arthur had slunk away as quickly as he could, making some excuse about needing to go to bed. Now, in the cold light of this day, it was difficult for Guinevere to take in that she'd become pregnant as a result of that awkward, embarrassing encounter, but the evidence was staring her in the face from her diary. She was almost certainly pregnant.

Guinevere sat on her bed for several minutes as the realisation she was pregnant again sank in. She thought of Arthur, how he would feel about another baby, whether it would be something that brought them back together or pushed them further apart. She wondered if Arthur would even want another baby and what she would do if he didn't. Guinevere thought of her Dad and of Uther, how would they feel about being grandfather's for a fourth time?

Thinking of Uther brought the previous day back to her mind again, the way she'd been late to pick up the Llacheu and Amhar from Uther's and the way she'd excused her lateness by telling a lie. Guinevere prided herself on being basically an honest person. She could count the number of lies she'd told in her life on the fingers of one hand, and even then they had been white lies, the kind of throwaway things people said to avoid certain situations, like telling telephone sales companies she didn't have time to answer their survey or discuss the possibility of buying new guttering or double glazing because someone had just rung her doorbell, or telling them she'd left the children in the bath and needed to get back to them. What bothered Guinevere about lying to Uther was how easily she'd done it and how pointless the lie had been.

She asked herself the question she had asked herself a dozen times the previous evening, after the children had eaten their evening meal and she'd put them to bed, tucking them both in and apologising again for being late to pick them up. Would Uther have been upset if she'd told him she'd been having coffee with a friend from work, especially if she admitted the friend was a man? Uther trusted her, she told herself. Since he'd apologised years ago for his past behaviour towards her, they had built a warm relationship. Uther's obvious love for Llacheu and Amhar, the memory of his love for Gwydre and the way he had tried so hard to build a better relationship with Arthur had deepened Guinevere's feelings for her father in law and a strong bond of affection and respect had built between them, almost to the point where he felt like a second father, so why had she felt the need to lie to him? It wasn't even as if she was doing anything wrong with Lance, she told herself. He was a friend from work. All they had done was what friends do, they'd gone for a few walks in the afternoons and they'd had coffee once, so why had she lied?

Guinevere was prevented from worrying about lying to Uther any more when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She smiled and called out, "Come in you two." The next minute her bedroom door burst open and Amhar rushed into the room. The little girl jumped up onto the bed and flung her arms around her mother. Llachue was just behind his little sister. He walked in and sat down carefully near the bottom of the bed.

"Are you better now Mum?" Llacheu asked anxiously, perched on the bottom of the bed. As he spoke he shoved the quilt Guinevere had pushed aside quickly when she jumped out of bed to one side, so he could see his mother's face more clearly.

Holding Amhar, who was sitting in her lap on the side of the bed now, in one arm, Guinevere reached a hand out to gently caress her son's cheek. "I promise you, I'm fine now, don't worry about me, but I will make an appointment on Monday to see Dr. Gaius when he can fit me in, all right?"

Still looking concerned, but satisfied, Llacheu nodded. "Dr Gaius will make you better, won't he?"

Guinevere dragged a smile to her lips. "Of course he will, I'll be fine." Changing the subject, Guinevere eased Amhar off her lap and onto the double bed. She stood and moved across the room to the bedroom door, pushing her diary back into her handbag on the door handle, before moving towards the bed again. "Right you two, we all need to get dressed," she pulled the children to their feet as she spoke. "We need to go and do some shopping for lunch tomorrow and then I thought we might go and see Granddad in the nursing home, it's a while since we've seen him. Maybe, while we're shopping, we could pick up some chocolate or something for Granddad, he'd like that."

Brightening up at the thought of seeing their maternal grandfather, the children took themselves off to the bathroom to get washed, before going back to their bedrooms to get dressed. Guinevere kept an eye on them in the bathroom, guiding them both through cleaning their teeth properly before they washed, then she let Llacheu get himself dressed while she helped Amhar.

An hour later Guinevere and the children were almost ready to go out. Guinevere quickly went around the house and made the beds. She made a mental note to flick a duster around the house and run the hoover around when they got back from seeing her Dad, seeing as they were having a guest for Sunday lunch, but once she made the beds she was content to leave the house for a while and go shopping.

Twenty minutes later Guinevere walked into one of the big supermarkets on the outskirts of town. She pushed a shopping trolley in front of her and the children walked at her sides. She usually tried not to take the children food shopping with her. When Arthur was at home more they would take it in turns to do the shopping while the other looked after the children at home, or she would ask Sefa and Gwaine to look after them for a while so that she could go and do the shopping as quickly as possible and get back, but on that Saturday morning she had no choice but to take them with her. Arthur was away and showed no sign of coming back, and Guinevere was reluctant to ask Gwaine and Sefa to child-mind while they were both struggling to come to terms with their decision to put a halt to actively trying for a baby for a while. Guinevere tried not to ask Uther to look after the children at the weekends because he did more than enough in picking them up and looking after them after school each day, and with Mithian and Leon about to have their second child almost imminently, she didn't think it was practical to ask them to look after the children, so she had to take them with her, even if it meant the shopping would take longer than it would if she'd been able to go on her own.

The cold artificial lights of the supermarket beamed down, casting their glow over advertising posters and the gleaming tiled floors. Music played over the public address system, only interrupted by a nasal voice promoting the latest offers in grocery provisions and cleaning products. A few feet away from Guinevere a harassed young mother chided a young child, who was sitting in the child seat in the front of a shopping trolley. As Guinevere passed the young woman she gave her a sympathetic nod when the child, a little boy of about two years old with bright ginger hair and a temper to match, released a blood-curdling scream. Guinevere's mind went back over earlier that morning when she was being sick and sighed inwardly, wondering what it would be like to go through the stage of toddler temper tantrums again. Gwydre had never reached that point, she remembered sadly, and Llacheu had always been an even tempered child. Amhar had been more demanding as a baby, needing to be entertained and occupied constantly when she was a toddler, and always getting into mischief and asking questions when she could walk and talk, but Arthur had been around to share the load and they'd managed. The thought went through Guinevere's mind again that if Arthur didn't come back, or if he didn't want another child, she might end up raising the new baby on her own. She pushed the thought away, telling herself she would cross that bridge when it happened and there was no point worrying about it beforehand.

When Guinevere and the children reached a quieter aisle she smiled brightly. "Right you two, you can choose a treat for Granddad, a couple of big bars of chocolate or something, and you can get something for yourselves as a treat."

Leaving Guinevere's side, Llacheu and Amhar cast their eyes down the shelves of chocolates, sweets and biscuits. A few minutes later Llacheu held up a couple of bars of chocolate wrapped in blue foil and paper. "This is the one Granddad likes, isn't it Mum?"

Guinevere walked over to Llacheu, pushing the trolley and dropping a couple of nice packets of biscuits into it as she went. She looked at the bars of chocolate, a well known brand her Dad loved, and beamed. "Granddad loves that one, we'll get two, all right?" Amhar went to her mother carrying another couple of bars of chocolate, this time containing dried fruit and nuts, which her Dad also liked. "Can we get this for Granddad Mummy, he likes this one?"

Guinevere smiled affectionately at her daughter. "Granddad will be pleased with all this chocolate, we'll get two of those bars as well darling, and then Granddad will have a choice, won't he?"

Amhar dropped the bars of chocolate into the shopping trolley and then Guinevere sent the children off to choose a small treat for themselves. They came back quickly, carrying a small bar of chocolate each and then Guinevere thought of what else she needed to buy.

Guinevere completed the rest of her shopping quickly, checking off a mental list of what she needed on her way. An hour or so later she was done, the shopping was in the boot of her car and the children were strapped in on the back seat. "We'll take the shopping home now," Guinevere spoke over her shoulder to the children as she climbed into the car, "and then we'll go and see Granddad, all right?"

Within another hour Guinevere was pulling up outside her Dad's nursing home. The building looked like a large red-bricked house with terracotta tiles on the roof. The home stood on the outskirts of town and was surrounded by extensive grounds which formed into small gardens around the building. Inside the building was typically clinical, with harsh artificial lights in the ceilings and magnolia paint on the walls. A few pictures on the walls, mostly of countryside scenes, or pictures of flowers and animals, brightened the surroundings in the corridors, and the day room, where most of the residents spent a lot of time during the day, was a light, airy room littered with comfortable chairs, but there was no getting away from the fact that the home was more of an institution than a homely place to live. Guinevere recalled trying to persuade her Dad to move somewhere that would be more comfortable and would be more like the house he'd had to give up after his second stroke, but though Tom had hated the home at first, he had refused, being determined to decide for himself where he wanted to live, and adamant that he wouldn't allow Guinevere and Arthur to spend a lot of money on his care while there was an alternative.

Tom's decision had worked out well in the end. Once he'd got used to giving up the home he'd lived in for years and had adjusted to the loss of independence his second stroke brought, he began to make friends in the nursing home. Now he was building a reputation as the life and soul of the place. He knew all the residents by name and the staff regarded him as a character. It was well known amongst the staff that Tom Leodegrance was the unofficial spokesman for all the residents. Tom was the one they went to if there was a problem with a resident, or if a new resident was struggling to settle in, and Tom relished the chance to feel useful in spite of his failing health.

On arriving inside the building Guinevere guided the children to the reception desk in the large foyer. A tall long haired brunette was on the phone and nodded at Guinevere to acknowledge her presence. Guinevere smiled politely and waited for the woman to complete her call before speaking.

A few minutes later the brunette put down the phone in her hand and turned to Guinevere, a warm smile written across her face. "Hello Mrs Pendragon, how are you?"

Guinevere nodded and smiled in response. "I'm well thanks," she indicated to the children at her sides. "We thought we'd come and pay my Dad a visit, is he in his room?"

At this the brunette, who looked about thirty five and gave off a sense of warm and friendly efficiency, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Oh yes, Tom is in his room, and so are half of the other residents. I think they are planning something."

Guinevere's brows arched and a vague sense of apprehension went through her. "What's he up to now, do I need to worry?"

The brunette shook her head and her smile became more affectionate. "Oh I shouldn't worry Mrs Pendragon, it's just that Tom has developed a bit of a flair for party planning, you know, for residents birthdays, that sort of thing, and I have a feeling another one is being planned. If I'm right, it'll be the third this month, which would be fine in itself, but a party a couple of weeks ago got a bit out of hand. Apparently it was three in the morning before all the residents were in bed and the night staff weren't very impressed, and neither were the day staff when they had to deal with all the hangovers the following day."

Guinevere smothered the urge to laugh and schooled her features into a neutral expression. "They all got….?"

The receptionist nodded and her eyes shone with suppressed mirth. "Not all of them, just the ones who are good enough on their feet to walk around...well, usually anyway. The day after their party none of them were feeling too well, but apparently the old gentleman who had celebrated his birthday had a whale of a time, so I suppose they all thought it was worth it, and Tom thought it was marvellous that the poor old thing had enjoyed himself so much."

Guinevere released a chuckle. "Well, I suppose we'd better go and see what mayhem he's up to now, hadn't we?" She turned to the children, a smile lingering on her lips.

Acknowledging the receptionist as they went, Guinevere and the children made their way to Tom's room. They walked down a long corridor and knocked on a door about halfway down. A moment later Guinevere and the children had to stand back as the door opened and at least a dozen old people, some walking on sticks and walking frames, others leaning on other people for support, burst of out the room with a clatter of noisy chatter. Several of the old people, mostly men, Guinevere noted, smiled at her in greeting. Some spoke to the children. Amhar said hello brightly and said they were there to see her Granddad, but Llacheu edged closer to Guinevere and clutched her hand awkwardly, though he did say hello to a few of the people he'd met before, when he'd visited the home with his mother.

When the crowd had dispersed Guinevere and the children went into Tom's room, knocking quietly on the door again as they went in.

Tom beamed with pleasure when he saw his family. "Hello love!" he exclaimed cheerfully to Guinevere, his eyes shining. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"Granddad!" Amhar practically flew into the room and threw her arms around her grandfather as he sat in his wheelchair.

"Hello my sweetheart," Tom hugged Amhar against him for a moment, only releasing her to hug Llacheu as he moved closer. "You're getting taller young man," he looked his grandson up and down before hugging him. "Are you on that football team yet?"

"Don't start him off Dad," Guinevere muttered almost her under breath as the children stood back to let her hug her father. "You know perfectly well Llacheu isn't old enough to join a team until he's six."

"Ah well, it won't be long then, you'll see," Tom turned his attention back to Llacheu. "We'll get you into the City Flyers and then I'll buy you your first football shirt."

Llacheu beamed with pleasure and then he found his voice a little more. Guinevere smiled gently at the way it sometimes took Llacheu a while to speak out, even with people he knew and loved, but when he was comfortable he would chat easily. "Mum's friend is coming to see me play tomorrow Granddad," the boy enthused brightly. "He used to manage a team in London, but now he works with Mum to look after the old people who can't look after themselves."

"What's all this then?" Tom turned his attention to Guinevere, who was now sitting in the easy chair in the corner of the room. It was one of the few things he'd brought with him when he'd had to give up his house after his second stroke.

Guinevere's stomach twisted nervously under her father's gaze. "A friend, Lance, from work, is going to come to watch Llacheu tomorrow, just so we can get some idea of how good he is," she explained, trying to sound casual and not succeeding. Even to her own ears she sounded anxious, though she couldn't explain why. "It might help us when it comes to trying to get Llacheu into a team." She tried to look her father in the eye as she spoke, but her eyes kept drifting to the floor.

"You've never mentioned him before," Tom said, his voice developing a stern edge he didn't use very often. "What does he know about football, and what's he doing in a woman's job?"

Guinevere rolled her eyes. Her Dad could be so old-fashioned when he wanted to be, and since his second stroke he had a tendency to be more grumpy than he used to be. He wasn't unkind, she thought to herself, her Dad didn't have an unkind bone in his body, but his moods were more up and down than he'd been before."He used to manage a children's team in London," Guinevere explained, trying to be calm and casual. "They were from the school he used to attend and they won a couple of competitions with him, so he must know what he's doing, and you know perfectly well, there is no such thing as a woman's job any more. He's a new carer, that's all, and he's shadowing me for a while to learn the ropes."

"Hmmm," Tom muttered non-committally. "So, where's Arthur, is he at home?"

Guinevere shook her head. She glanced at the children, not really wanting to discuss Arthur's continued absence in front of them, but having no choice. "He's still away for work, I don't know when he'll be back," or even if, she thought to herself.

Tom muttered something under his breath. Guinevere could just about hear something suspiciously like 'bloody young fool,' but ignored it, not wanting to discuss the subject further while the children were around.

"So, what's this Lance like?" Tom said a moment later, almost making Guinevere wish they were still talking about Arthur.

Guinevere sat up taller in the easy chair and felt like a little girl again. She was a grown woman, she told herself, but her Dad could still make her feel like an awkward fifteen year old. "He's nice," she said, knowing that didn't give much away. She suddenly had a vivid recollection of her English teacher at school, a strict, but fair middle aged woman who had an aversion to people describing anything as nice. 'Never use the word nice,' she would say, sniffing as if she had a bad smell under her nose. 'Nice doesn't mean anything!'

Guinevere blinked and the memory disappeared, leaving her to catch up with her train of thought. "He's a widower."

"Oh, is he now," Tom frowned deeply.

"Dad, honestly," Guinevere shook her head, chiding her father gently. "Lance is a perfectly decent, kind person and he's coming to watch Llacheu kick a ball around in the back garden, and then he's going to have Sunday lunch with us, all right?"

"Yes, well, you just be careful my girl, that's all I'm saying." Tom looked Guinevere straight in the eye as he spoke, his voice heavy with meaning.

"We bought you some chocolate Granddad, look!' Amhar jumped up from where she'd been sitting on Tom's bed, next to her brother.

Guinevere felt a rush of gratitude for Amhar's interruption and fished around in the bag she'd brought in with her for the bars of chocolate they'd bought for Tom. She handed them to the children and they gave them to Tom, giving him another hug as they handed over the chocolate.

"Well, look at this!' Tom exclaimed enthusiastically, holding the wrapped chocolate in his hands. "You both remembered my favourites, aren't you both clever!'

"I picked that one Granddad!" Amhar beamed.

Tom hugged his granddaughter and then turned to Llacheu, "And you remembered I liked the fruit and nut one, is that right?" Llacheu nodded and flushed when his grandfather hugged him and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"They thought you might like a choice," Guinevere said, as Tom released Llacheu from his embrace and the children sat back down on Tom's bed. "So we bought you two of each, is it all right?"

Tom nodded and smiled warmly, all his irritability from moments before gone. "It's a lovely thought sweetheart, thank you."

"Not that you deserve a treat, from what I'm hearing," Guinevere schooled her features into a frown. "What's all this I hear about parties and keeping the other residents up until all hours?"

Tom shrugged, but his eyes twinkled with suppressed amusement. He knew his daughter well enough to know she wasn't really annoyed. "I don't know what you're talking about love, honest."

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "Dad, honestly, what have you been doing?"

Tom's features formed an innocent, put upon expression. "It was just a couple of parties, that's all, and we might have had a few drinks, just a few!"

"From what I hear it was a bit more than a few, the receptionist said you all got drunk!" Now Guinevere was struggling to keep a straight face.

"Well," Tom shrugged again, stretching out the word as his shoulders heaved, "one of the old dears had a birthday, and it turned out he hadn't had a birthday party, a real one with drinks and food and things, for years, so we all got together and had a bit of a party for him. He said afterwards, he hadn't enjoyed himself so much for years, and he's all on his own in here love, and he never has any visitors, so what was I to do, and besides, what does it matter if we all had a bit to drink, we are all over the age of eighteen."

Guinevere chuckled, "So what was that crowd when we came in, what are you up to now, another party?"

Tom smiled lovingly at his daughter. "Just a small one." He winked as he spoke.

"Dad!" Guinevere's tone was a warning, but her father ignored her and grinned warmly.

"There's a new woman moved in, a few rooms down. She's struggling to settle in and make friends, she's a bit shy, so a bunch of us thought we'd smooth the way a bit for her, get some nice things in to eat and drink, just so she can meet everyone and get to know us better."

Guinevere nodded, it was typical of her Dad to go out of his way for other people, he'd done it all her life. "What does Uther think of you throwing parties in here?" She knew her father in law was a frequent visitor to the home and often took Tom out on day trips, but she thought that even though Uther was more laid-back now than he'd ever been, it was unlikely he'd approve of Tom holding drunken parties.

Tom grinned wickedly. "Well actually my love, he brought the booze in for the last one."

Guinevere and the children stayed with Tom for another hour. When they left he hugged all of them and Guinevere made him promise to behave himself, knowing he would probably take no notice. Deep down she was glad he'd taken to life in the nursing home, it was a far cry from how miserable he'd been when he first went in there, but it was also very different from the life he'd led since her mother died. For years Tom's focus had been bringing up Guinevere and Elyan and steering them through life. Now he had time for a life of his own and Guinevere loved the way he embraced it wholeheartedly, even if he got himself into trouble at times.

Guinevere spent the remainder of the day tidying up at home. She involved the children, encouraging them to tidy their rooms and put things away properly, while she ran the hoover around and cleaned all the surfaces. By the end of the day the house was spotless and Guinevere was looking forward to their visitor.

Sunday came around at last. The day dawned bright and clear, with the promise of a hint of early summer heat. When Guinevere drew back her bedroom curtains the sun streamed in. Only the nausea rolling in her stomach marred what appeared to be the beginning of a beautiful day.

By the time the doorbell rang. About halfway through the morning, Guinevere was starting to feel better. She went to the door and smiled warmly when she opened it to find Lance on the doorstep. He stood there in a white shirt with an open collar and a pair of jeans, holding a white cardboard box in his hands.

"You found us all right then?" Guinevere greeted Lance, standing aside from the door to let him in.

Lance nodded and stepped into the house. "It wasn't difficult to find." He followed Guinevere down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she had already started the preparations for their lunch. When they were in the kitchen he held the white box out to Guinevere. It was just a plain square box with a lid which flipped open from the top. "I made a chocolate cheesecake, have you got a bit of room in your fridge, just until we're ready to eat it?"

Guinevere was feeling better after her early morning feeling of sickness and her eyes lit up. "I'm sure I can make some room, don't worry about it." She took the box from Lance and placed it carefully on the kitchen worktop next to the fridge, before opening the fridge and rearranging a few things. Then, when she was happy she had enough space, Guinevere gently took the white box in her hand and placed it on a shelf in the fridge, before closing the door.

"Come and meet the children, they're already out in the garden. It's such a lovely day, I thought it would be silly to spend all day inside." Guinevere guided Lance through to the family room and then out through the French doors which led to the garden, and then she called the children to come and say hello.

"This is Lance, my friend from work." Both of the children said hello politely.

"It's nice to meet you both," Lance greeted the children warmly, shaking hands with both of them and looking them both in the eyes as he spoke. "You must be Llacheu, I understand you like football, is that right?"

Llacheu looked to Guinevere for reassurance. When she nodded gently, he found his voice. "I want to play football one day, properly, in a team, but they won't let me join until I'm six."

Lance nodded sympathetically and then turned to Amhar. "You must be Amhar, what do you like to do?"

Amhar beamed at this nice man who was paying her some attention. "I like playing with my dollies and George, my teddy bear, and I like to play princesses in my bedroom, it's a pink room, I like pink!'

Lance smiled and nodded. "Your Mum said you like pink, is that your favourite colour?"

Amhar nodded. "I like blue as well, but pink is my favourite."

Lance chatted easily and comfortably with the children for a while, and then Guinevere went back into the house with Amhar, while Lance and Llacheu kicked the ball around in the garden for a while. "Take your time, we'll call you when lunch is ready," Guinevere smiled, impressed with the way Lance had taken the time to speak to both children so naturally. For someone who didn't have children, he was remarkably at ease with them. Even Llacheu was talking easily to Lance now, as if he'd known him for years, not less than half an hour.

Guinevere occupied Amhar in the kitchen with her, letting her do small tasks where she couldn't hurt herself or damage anything. An hour later lunch was prepared and Guinevere served the food into serving dishes before getting Amhar to help her lay the table in the dining room. When the table was ready she sent Amhar out into the garden to call Lance and Llacheu in for lunch.

The four of them sat at the dining table for their meal, all of them chatting comfortably while they ate. Amhar had insisted on sitting next to Lance, while Llacheu took his usual seat next to his mother. Guinevere had reminded the children before Lance arrived to remember their manners at the table and they didn't let her down. Both of the children behaved impeccably, not speaking if their mouths were full and not interrupting the adults, but the children also enjoyed Lance's company, laughing and joking with him and telling him about school and the things they liked to do.

When the meal was over and they had congratulated Lance on the success of his cheesecake, Guinevere rose from the table. "Why don't you take the children back out into the garden while I clear up?" she asked Lance. "It's such a lovely day, you might as well make use of it."

Lance got to his feet, shaking his head. "Why don't we all go out into the garden for a while, I'll help you clean up in a bit."

"I can't ask you to do that, you're a guest." Guinevere started to collect the empty plates and serving dishes together as she spoke.

Lance reached across the table and stopped Guinevere's movements with his hands. She felt his touch on her hand and stood still, her heart pounding for a reason she couldn't understand. Lance met Guinevere's gaze across the table steadily. "I'm not bothered about that," he said softly. "You cooked a lovely meal, the least I can do is help you to clean up, and I will, when we've all spent some time in the garden. Come on, it's a lovely day, you said yourself, we might as well make use of it."

Nodding unsteadily, Guinevere swallowed and left the plates on the table for later.

The four of them spent the rest of the afternoon playing and having fun in the garden. Guinevere noted the way Lance patiently spent time with Llacheu and Amhar. They played ball games and Llacheu's obvious ability and agility was in stark contrast to Amhar's lack of any real coordination and skill, but Lance took the time with them both, showing Llacheu complicated manoeuvres with the football and teaching Amhar how to throw and catch a small soft ball, before showing her how to play bat and ball with him using a pair of old plastic bats Guinevere found in the small shed they had right at the top of the long garden. The shed had been left by the previous owner before Arthur and Guinevere had bought the house. They had always planned to demolish the shed eventually and build a small summer house in the garden, where they would be able to sit in the shade in the summer, or have meals outdoors when they had guests, but as the children got older and had toys they didn't have room for in the house, like bikes and garden toys, they had made use of the shed so it had stayed.

Once they had exhausted the ball games and had a drink to cool off, they played a game of Tag, where one of them was chosen to be 'it' and had to try to reach the others as they ran around trying to avoid being touched. Guinevere and Lance indulged in a bit of cheating unnoticed by the children, so that one of them would be 'it' at the end of the game rather than one of the children, meaning the children would effectively win. Guinevere knew it probably didn't do the children much good to think they could always win easily, they needed to learn to lose too, but the sound of their laughter throughout the afternoon was addictive, and she couldn't help wanting it to last a bit longer.

Guinevere, Lance and the children were so engrossed in their fun, they didn't hear someone letting themselves in to the house. They didn't hear as someone walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. They didn't see as someone went into the family room and watched through the open French windows, studying the scene before him intently.

At the end of their game of Tag, when the children were declared the winners, Guinevere felt a sharp twinge of pain in her side and gasped, putting her hand to the sore area.

Noticing something was wrong, Lance went over to Guinevere. "Are you all right, do you need to sit down for a while?" Lance's eyes filled with concern and he stood closer to Guinevere, telling himself he didn't want the children to overhear and be worried about their mother.

Shaken for a moment at the sharpness of the pain, Guinevere shook her head, slowing recovering herself. "I'm all right, it's probably just a stitch or something. I'm used to being on my feet at work, but I'm probably not so used to running around like this. I'm fine, really." She dragged a small smile to her lips.

Lance nodded, but it was obvious he wasn't convinced. "Well, tell you what, I'm ready for another drink anyway, so why don't we all go back inside for a while?"

Guinevere nodded and turned to call the children, who had gone back to playing another game of bat and ball. Guinevere smiled as Amhar managed a few times to hit the soft ball to her brother and Llacheu hit it back to her with skill. Just a few hours with Lance had done both of the children good, she thought, as the children heard her call and put the bats and ball down on the grass to follow the adults inside. Guinevere turned back to Lance quickly, disturbing a few strands of her hair, which fell into her eyes. Before she could push her hair back, Lance stepped towards her and gently pushed the strands out of her eyes, gently placing the hair behind her ear. He looked into Guinevere's eyes for a moment, gazing down on her for several quiet seconds, before one of the children called out and broke the atmosphere. Blinking and recovering herself, Guinevere led the way back into the house. They all went inside, laughing and joking over all the fun they'd enjoyed in the garden.

Suddenly a movement in the middle of the room caught Guinevere's eye and she looked up, coming face to face with her husband, who stood glaring, his eyes shifting rapidly between Guinevere and Lance.

"Arthur, when did you get back?" Guinevere exclaimed in surprise, stepping towards her husband. Embarrassment consumed her when he stood back as she neared him, creating a space between them. Guinevere flushed awkwardly. Arthur was clearly furious.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Guinevere registered the children as they followed the adults into the family room and spotted their father. Guinevere expected Amhar to push through to Arthur and jump into his arms, but the children stood transfixed, watching their father as his stormy gaze continued to switch between Guinevere and Lance.

No one moved, no one spoke a word, until, eventually, Guinevere dragged her eyes away from the accusation in Arthur's eyes and turned to the children. "Why don't you two take Lance through to the living room and put a DVD on for a while, I just need to speak to your Dad for a while, okay?" Guinevere looked at Lance anxiously, asking him with her eyes to go with the children.

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere that had come over all of them. He could see the anger radiating off the man in front of him. Part of him wanted to stay with Guinevere, but another part of him knew that not doing what she asked would probably make things worse for her, so with one last look at the man who was glaring at him, Lance cleared his throat again and made a decision. "I will go with the children," he said softly, turning his attention to Guinevere and away from the expression on her husband's face. "Then I think I ought to be going. I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

Guinevere nodded, a rush of relief overwhelming her. "Yes, I'll meet you outside Alice's in the morning. She'll be glad to see you." She smiled weakly.

When he was halfway out of the room, following the children, Lance hesitated. He turned back to Guinevere and spoke again. "I was going to help you clean up, wasn't I?"

By now Guinevere's full attention was on Arthur. She could see the tension rolling off him in waves. The blue of his eyes seemed to darken with the temper he was trying to contain. "Don't worry about it," she said to Lance, still unable to drag her eyes off Arthur. "I can manage, it won't take long."

"If you're sure," Lance said, resisting the temptation to stay in the room with Guinevere and shield her from her husband's anger.

Guinevere nodded abruptly. "I'm sure, I'll see you at work in the morning."

"Thanks for a lovely meal, I've had a great time, and Llacheu is good by the way. When he's six you shouldn't have any trouble at all getting him into a football team. If they've got any sense at all they'll be clamouring for him."

The rush of pride Guinevere felt in her son at Lance's words was quashed when she looked into the cold fury in Arthur's eyes.

A moment later Lance was gone. Guinevere vaguely heard the sound of the television in the living room, and then a few minutes later she heard the front door close. For the first time in weeks she was alone with Arthur.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm not a big fan of cliffhanger chapter endings, but somehow it seemed right for the end of chapter seven. I know you've all waited for Arthur to come back and I hope this chapter lives up to what you have hoped for. I have to be very honest and say that somehow I'm not sure this story is gelling for me. With Six Weeks To Midnight I worked without notes, just as I'm doing with this, but I had a clear idea of where I was going for the most part, and anything additional I put in, Uther's back story, Leon and Gwaine's marriages etc, seemed to write themselves and seemed to fit in. This story has been more of an effort somehow, even though I know, just as I did with Six Weeks To Midnight, what I want to get to. Never fear though, I will complete this story and in the meantime your reviews and feedback will encourage me.**

 **Just to say to people, I know you will be angry with Arthur when you read this chapter. I can't defend him, he's an idiot, but I hope I've managed to keep him an in character idiot. I also hope I've been true to Guinevere's character. Also, please don't panic, you know I always fix the things I break.**

Arthur Pendragon woke that Sunday morning from yet another night of disturbed sleep and made up his mind to go home. All night dreams of Guinevere had tormented him. He'd heard her voice in his sleep and seen her face in front of him, but every time he tried to get near her she seemed to slip further away. When he woke with a start as the first rays of the sun created an orange haze, filling the room in the cheap Bed and Breakfast he'd been staying in for the last couple of weeks with a golden glow, Arthur knew it was time, he needed to go home and sort out the mess his refusal to face up to his problems had created.

Getting out of bed with a purpose he hadn't felt for weeks, Arthur washed and dressed quickly before going down for a quick breakfast. Having eaten and washed the food down with a strong cup of tea, Arthur approached the landlady to pay his bill before leaving.

The landlady, an elderly lady who was at least eighty to Arthur's eyes, but seemed to have the energy of a woman half her age, greeted Arthur warmly when he approached her. He explained quietly that he was leaving and wanted to pay his bill, trying not to be overheard by the other diners in the large dining room of the Victorian building, which had obviously been converted to a guest house at some point in its history.

"I'm sorry you're leaving us Mr. Pendragon," the elderly lady said, her bright eyes dimming with concern. "I hope you're not dissatisfied with the service you've received?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, not at all, it's just time I went home. I've done what I needed to do here and I have a wife and children to get back to. I've been working away a lot over the last year or so and it's time I put that right. I need to go home and spend time with my family."

At the mention of children the elderly lady, a thin woman with pale blue eyes and grey hair arranged in a neat bun, broke out into a warm smile. "I didn't realise you had a family."

Arthur hadn't really wanted to discuss his personal life, but suddenly the weeks away from Llacheu and Amhar caught up with him, compelling him to share his pride in them with someone. Fishing in the wallet he'd brought downstairs to pay his bill, Arthur pulled out a small photo of Guinevere and the children, taken just a short time before he started spending more and more time away from them. He'd taken the photo, he remembered. The family had spent a day at a nature reserve in Winchester. They'd walked for what felt like miles, enjoying the peace and the country air, and then, when Amhar couldn't walk any more, he'd picked her up, carrying her on his back, her legs clinging tightly around his waist, while her arms wrapped firmly around his neck.

Later they'd all taken their shoes and socks off to paddle in a stream. Arthur could still see Llacheu and Guinevere splashing around in the shallow water. Amhar, usually a lot more confident and outgoing than her elder brother, seemed unsure. Arthur could still feel the way she clutched his hand tightly as she stepped into the chill water, the new sensation of pebbles and rocks beneath her feet and the tiny fish swimming around her legs making her apprehensive. "Don't let me go Daddy!" she said, her eyes widening with shock when she took her first tentative steps in the ice cold water.

"I'm right here sweetheart," Arthur smiled gently, feeling Amhar's grip on his hand tighten. "I won't let you go."

"You promise?" Amhar looked up into her father's eyes uncertainly.

Arthur crossed his heart with his free hand. "I promise you Amhar, I won't let you go, not ever."

Trusting her father implicitly as she was used to, Amhar took more steps. She was still holding his hand as tightly as she could, but soon she conquered her uncertainty and became bolder. It wasn't long before she was splashing around as much as Llacheu was. Arthur could still hear her delighted giggles when she caught him full in the face with a huge splash.

"Your wife is very beautiful." The landlady pulled Arthur out of his memories of one of the last really good days he'd spent with his family, before he got wrapped up in a mess of his own making and focused on work too much to try to get out of it, instead of facing up to it.

Arthur nodded, gazing down at the photo he'd just handed to the landlady. It showed Guinevere sitting with her arms wrapped around Lacheu and Amhar, while they all grinned broadly for the camera. "She is, I'm very lucky. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have her. She's the kindest person I know, she always has been."

The landlady could see the wistful expression on Arthur's face and nodded gently. "How long have you been married?"

Arthur smiled affectionately. "Almost eleven years," he said thoughtfully, wondering where all that time had gone.

"And you love her very much," the elderly lady stated the obvious truth. It was written all over the face of the man in front of her.

Arthur heaved a sigh and looked down at the photo in the landlady's hand, before looking her straight in the eyes. "More than anything else in the world," he said simply, not even bothering to hide his feelings. "My children are my world," he went on, trying to explain himself. "But Guinevere, she's..." He stopped, unable to find the words to convey what he felt.

"She's the universe," the old lady said wisely.

Arthur nodded and swallowed hard, wondering when he'd become such a soul bearer. "I haven't told her much lately," he admitted, shame coursing through him when he thought of how stupid he'd been and how badly he'd treated Guinevere. "I need to put that right." He blinked rapidly as a rush of feelings he'd spent months trying to hold back caught up with him. He felt the heat rush to his face and willed himself to stay in control.

"I'm sure she knows," the old lady tactfully gave Arthur a moment to control the emotion she could see in his eyes. "But it never hurts to say it. How old are your children?" She gently steered the conversation around to a topic she thought might be safer.

Arthur cleared his throat and his face transformed into a wide smile. "Llacheu is five and a half." He pointed to the image of the dark haired boy in the photo. The old lady could see his close resemblance to his mother, but even when he was sitting down the boy appeared to be tall, like his father. Other than that, his features were exactly like his mother. "Amhar is four," Arthur went on, pointing to the blonde little girl in the photo, who was almost a mirror image of her father. "Sometimes I think she's four going on fifteen though, she can be a handful when she wants to be."

The old lady smiled tenderly. "Gosh, just a year and a half between your children, that can't have been easy?"

Arthur shook his head and the old lady saw something in his eyes, a sense of the loss of something. She wondered if she was prying and went to apologise, but Arthur spoke before she could find the words. "We had another little boy," he explained, trying to think of how to explain the loss of Gwydre. "A year after we were married Guinevere became pregnant. We had a little boy, Gwydre, but we lost him when he was three months old, from cot death."

The old lady's face filled with sadness. "I'm so sorry." The words came out simply, but Arthur could see the sincerity of them in her gaze. "The loss of a child must be a terrible thing. My late husband and I were never blessed with children, I can't imagine what you went through."

Arthur heaved a heavy sigh, memories of that time coming back so vividly, even after all the years. "It was hard, really hard, but we got there eventually. You don't get over a loss like that, not really, but we found a way to go on. When we found out we were expecting our second son we were terrified of it happening again. We lived on our nerves for months after Llacheu was born, but he was healthy and strong. We were still worried when Amhar came along, but I think seeing Llacheu doing so well gave us hope, and I don't think either of us wanted Llacheu to be an only child."

The elderly lady nodded sympathetically. "I see, of course, and I can understand why you're so keen to get home to them. Just give me a moment and I'll sort your bill out." The old lady rushed away to finish serving breakfast to her guests and then she told Arthur she wouldn't be long before disappearing from view

Arthur had another cup of tea while he was waiting for the elderly lady to make up his bill. She reappeared a while later and Arthur settled up with her. She wished him well and then Arthur went back to his room to pick up his bag before going out to his car.

All the way back to Winchester on the motorway, Arthur's mind was filled with thoughts of Guinevere and the children. Would Guinevere be pleased to see him, or would she be angry he'd been away for so long without a word? He remembered all the texts she'd sent asking him to call her, and all the voice mails she'd left on his phone, each one sounding increasingly anxious. Why hadn't he kept in touch with her? He asked himself the question over and over again, but deep down he knew the answer. Shame and embarrassment had stopped him. He'd known that if he called Guinevere he'd tell her everything, and he just wasn't ready to do it then. He told himself it was because he couldn't face doing it on the phone, couldn't face hurting her in the way he knew he would when he told her the truth of the mess he'd got them in to, if he couldn't be with her and explain it to her face to face, but he knew he wasn't being honest with himself. The truth was that he'd been frightened to tell her, scared of showing her he'd failed her and the children so badly when they had trusted him so much. Then, out of the blue, Guinevere had stopped trying to reach him.

For a while after he went to Manchester Guinevere tried to reach Arthur every day, sometimes more than once. Then there was suddenly nothing from her, not an attempt to call or a text message or anything. It should have made not speaking to her easier, Arthur mused, during the seemingly endless journey towards home, but the silence from her suddenly made him realise how much he had pushed her away for so many months. Still, he couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone or text her. Even now, he admitted to himself, he'd give anything to not have to tell Guinevere the truth and show her he was a failure and a coward, but he knew he couldn't go on living in the way he'd been going on for months. It was time to tell the truth and face up to whatever happened as a result.

Arthur's resolution to be honest with Guinevere lasted until he pulled up on the drive outside his house.

The first thing Arthur noticed when he pulled up on the wide driveway was the black sports car parked directly outside the house. The car had a soft top, which was open. The early summer sun gleamed down on the car's shiny black paintwork and the leather interiors. Arthur wondered who the car belonged to. He knew it didn't belong to any of their closest friends. Neither Gwaine or Leon could afford a car like that on their earnings, and Gwaine wouldn't be seen dead in a car like that. Mithian might be able to afford a sports car, he thought, thinking of Leon's wife, who had inherited her father's company when he died and was still doing well, but it wouldn't exactly be a practical choice for a couple with a young child and another baby on the way.

No, Arthur thought, as he took his front door key out of his jacket pocket and let himself into his house for the first time for weeks, unless his father was going through some kind of late midlife crisis and had suddenly splashed out on a sports car, it must belong to a complete stranger, but who could it be, and what were they doing at his house on a Sunday afternoon?

Arthur walked through the hallway. He was tempted to call the children, thinking they might be pleased to see him even if Guinevere wasn't, but something stopped him. He went into the kitchen. He sniffed, finding the scent of a recently cooked meal and dirty saucepans soaking in washing up water in the sink.

Standing in the kitchen, Arthur listened for any sign of his family in the house. Faintly he heard the sound of children's laughter coming from the back of the house. Turning on his heel, he walked through to the family room and found the French doors wide open, and then his heart seemed to stop. The children, his children, were running around on the long stretch of lawn in the garden, but they weren't alone. Guinevere was running around too, laughing delightedly while a man, who Arthur had never seen in his life, stood in the middle of the lawn and tried to reach her with his outstretched hands.

Arthur watched while the game in the garden came to a conclusion amid laughter and cheers, when the children jumped up and down with excitement, obviously having won. He watched as Guinevere's face suddenly fell. At first he thought she'd seen him in the house and stood back a bit from the open French doors to avoid being seen, but then he made out the way she seemed to clutch her side for a moment. Every instinct he had wanted to rush out to Guinevere and find out what was wrong with her. The urge died a swift death when a strange man, tall, dark and good looking, even to Arthur's eyes, moved towards her and stood as close to her as he could get.

A sudden sensation immobilised Arthur. He could barely breath as ice cold fury swept over him. He wanted to go out and drag this unknown man away from his wife, who was standing close to him and looking up into his face, her eyes wide and intent, as if everything the man said was fascinating to her. He watched a small smile form on Guinevere's lips for a moment when the man spoke to her and stifled the urge to go out and punch the stranger. A moment later Arthur watched as Guinevere called the children and they moved obediently to follow the adults back into the house, their faces shining with excitement as they laughed over all the fun they'd so obviously been having.

Arthur's heart seemed to stand still when the man, still standing far too close to Guinevere, reached out a hand and tucked some lose strands of her hair, which had fallen into her eyes, behind her ear. He watched as his wife and the man stood looking into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, both of them seeming caught up in the moment, oblivious to everything around them but each other.

Staggering back from the French doors as if he'd been struck, Arthur closed his eyes as the memory of the expression on Guinevere's face when she looked up at the man seemed to brand him. Pain shot through him, burning him from the inside out, while the look on Guinevere's face scorched the inside of his eyelids and stole the remaining breath in his lungs. He fought to stay on his feet as the urge to collapse in a heap consumed him.

Arthur's eyes flew open abruptly when he realised the sound of laughter and excited chatter was getting closer. He stood transfixed, watching with rapt attention as the children followed their mother and the unknown stranger towards the house. He wanted to run, he wanted to escape the look on Guinevere's face every time she looked up and laughed with the man beside her. The way her eyes shone with unguarded pleasure prevented him moving and tormented him by making him stare between the two people he would have given anything to _not_ look at any longer, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from either of them. White hot fire behind his eyes began to overwhelm him, burning into the depths of his soul.

A moment later Arthur took another step back into the middle of the room when his family and the strange man walked into the house. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream and cry out against the agony he felt, but he said nothing. The only thing he could do was stand there, his eyes switching rapidly between Guinevere and the unknown man.

Suddenly Arthur found himself looking straight at his wife. "Arthur, when did you get back?" He heard her ask the question, her voice high with surprise, though it sounded to him as if she was miles away. The sound of her voice was muffled against the racing of his heart and the pounding of the fury taking hold of his insides. Nausea swept through him when Guinevere stepped towards him and he stood back, widening the space between them. Satisfaction pierced him when Guinevere's face filled with embarrassment and she flushed awkwardly, but he still couldn't say a word.

By now Arthur registered the presence of his children in the room, though he still couldn't drag his eyes off Guinevere and the stranger. Somewhere in his mind he realised that neither of his children had moved to greet him and pain shot through him again, though he fought to keep it at bay by stoking the anger raging through him. He forced himself not to take his eyes off Guinevere and the man beside her, asking himself who the man was and how long he'd been on the scene. Images of Guinevere spending cosy evenings with the stranger, while he was away working and trying to keep the roof over his family's head, tortured him, before the images changed to something else, something he couldn't even put into words in his own head. He tried to tell himself Guinevere would never do that, would never give herself to another man in the way she'd given herself to him, but the evidence of his own eyes contradicted him when the way she'd looked at the stranger in the garden burned through him again, turning his soul to ashes. The images in his head, his Guinevere in the arms of this other man, under their roof and in their bed, while their children slept so nearby, must have reflected in his eyes. Triumph swept through him when Guinevere dragged her eyes away from his and turned to the children.

 _Lance._ He heard Guinevere call the stranger by name when she spoke to the children. As if from a long way off she asked the children to take _Lance_ into the living room to watch a DVD. Arthur wanted to argue, he wanted to stop _Lance_ getting anywhere near his children, but the rage boiling inside him still stopped him speaking, so he watched in the corner of his eye as the children left the room, with the man following reluctantly behind. For a moment the man seemed to hesitate and spoke to Guinevere. Another triumphant spark shot through him when he saw the way Guinevere couldn't drag her eyes off him to look at the other man, but she spoke, her voice typically gentle, but sounding tight and nervous. Part of Arthur longed to tell her she didn't need to be afraid of being alone with him, but another part, a part of him he knew was like his father as he once was, felt glad to think he could still disturb her thoughts and make her wonder what he was going to do next. Then, before he knew it, he was alone with his wife. Somewhere in the distance he heard the soft hum of the television in the living room, and then he heard the front door close firmly, but he didn't care. He stood in the middle of the room and waited for Guinevere to speak.

The silence went on for what seemed like hours. Arthur's gaze never shifted from Guinevere's face. He watched the flush in her cheeks, which had risen when he stepped away from her moments before, fade away, until her skin appeared almost sickly. When she opened her mouth he braced himself, waiting for her to say something, even if what she said was the worst thing, but she said nothing and closed her mouth again. The television in the other room hummed on relentlessly.

' _ **Heigh ho, Heigh ho, it's off to work we go'**_

Arthur heard the familiar song in the background. He heard Llacheu an Amhar singing along, knowing they knew every word of their favourite Disney film by heart. He heard their innocent voices and ached to feel that carefree again. Listening to his children, something inside Arthur softened. He exchanged a look with Guinevere. A moment passed between them when all they could think about was their children, the two people they both loved, the two people the love they shared had created, but then Arthur's thoughts changed and the images his mind had created before, Guinevere in another man's arms, shot through him again and his face fell. He saw Guinevere's recognition of his changing mood. He watched her heave a sigh. He watched her look down at her feet for a moment and then he heard her speak.

"I...I asked you before, when did you get back?" Arthur could hear Guinevere's trepidation in her voice. He wondered if the heart he could hear pounding in his ears was hers or his. He could no longer tell.

"When you were in the garden," Arthur's words came out clipped and flat. It took all of his strength not to yell and shout. "I've spent the morning on the motorway."

Guinevere nodded slightly and swallowed before going on. "I took the children to see my Dad yesterday. It seems like he's been holding parties for the residents in the nursing home. Apparently, a while ago, a bunch of them got rather drunk."

A rush of affection washed over Arthur when he thought of his father in law. Tom had become like a second father to him. He recalled times when he felt closer to Tom than he felt to his own father. He wondered if Tom knew Guinevere had found herself another man and what he thought of him, but he said nothing.

Arthur watched Guinevere's face as she realised her attempt at small talk had stalled. He watched her struggle for something to say. "Have you eaten?" she said at last and the relief in her eyes was tangible. "There's not much left from lunch, but if you're hungry I could…."

"I'm not hungry," Arthur interrupted, his voice sounding cold even to his own ears. The urge to start shouting was gaining strength.

Guinevere looked at Arthur and frowned. She was obviously puzzled by his tone and she seemed to deflate for a moment, before she found something else to say. "How was Manchester?" The nervous edge in her voice was clear. She sounded like she was stepping through a minefield. Arthur knew how she felt because he felt exactly the same. He sensed the explosion coming.

Deliberately ignoring her, Arthur found his own words. He tried to keep his voice steady as he asked the question which had been burning inside him since he saw the stranger with his wife and children in his garden. "Who is he?"

Guinevere blinked. Arthur watched as a thousand thoughts seemed to reflect in her eyes. She took an intake of breath. "Who do you….?"

"You know perfectly well who I mean!" Even Arthur was shocked by how scornful he sounded. He didn't raise his voice, but there was an edge to his tone he hadn't used to Guinevere in years, not since they'd fought so bitterly to deal with the pain they tried so long to bury after they lost Gwydre. He watched her eyes widen in surprise and momentarily hated the way it felt like a victory.

"You mean Lance?" Guinevere recovered herself after a moment. "He's a friend from work."

"A good friend?" Arthur forced himself to stay in control. He refused to give in to the anger boiling inside him.

Guinevere looked at Arthur quizzically for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I suppose so." She seemed to think about what else to say before going on. "I was telling him about the children, about the way Llacheu is desperate to get into a football team when he's six. It turns out he used to manage a team in London, a team of school children at the school he used to attend. He offered to come and look at Llacheu, just so that we could have some idea of how good he is, and whether encouraging him to try to get into a team is a good idea. Well, you heard him Arthur, he said Llacheu is good."

The pride and affection in Guinevere's expression when she spoke of Llacheu's football ability nearly deflated Arthur's anger, but the thought of her turning to that man for an opinion on his son steeled his resolve. "It wouldn't have taken that long to watch Llacheu kicking a ball around," he tried to keep his voice even as he spoke. "So what was he still doing here when I got back?"

Something in Guinevere's eyes told Arthur he was treading on thin ice. "I invited him to lunch," she explained, as if she was fighting her own battle to keep calm. "He hasn't lived in Winchester long, he barely knows anyone, and he's a widower, so I..."

The light came on inside Arthur and he released a humourless huff of laughter. "Oh, I see," he said, knowing his control was starting to slip and suddenly not caring. "He's a lonely widower, all alone in a strange place and you felt sorry for him," he sneered, his temper starting to rise. "Well, I bet he uses that sob story on every woman he meets!"

"He's not like that!" Guinevere's voice rose at last. Arthur watched her take a breath and try to regain control. "He's a nice person who offered to take the time to come and watch Llacheu play football, so I invited him to lunch and then we played some games with the children in the garden. He taught Amhar how to hit a ball properly with those plastic bats in the shed. You should have heard her Arthur, she loved it. She loved the attention Lance gave her."

"It didn't look like Amhar was the only one who loved _Lance's_ attention." He injected all the contempt he could muster into the other man's name. "You didn't seem to mind it yourself."

For a moment it seemed as if Guinevere had no idea what to say. She stood in front of Arthur, her eyes wide with disbelief, her mouth open in shock. "I don't….I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, come off it!" Arthur finally lost control. He watched Guinevere flinch when he shouted for the first time. At any other time he would have quietened down and apologised for raising his voice to her, but he couldn't get the images of her and that man in the garden out of his head. "He was all over you like a rash and you loved it. I saw you with my own eyes Guinevere, I saw you!"

Guinevere shook her head vehemently. "He was not all over me, don't be so bloody childish!"

"He was all over you!" Arthur's voice rose again. "I watched him tuck your hair behind your ear, and I saw you having a cosy chat with him. He was all over you and you couldn't keep your eyes off him!" By now Arthur was almost shaking with temper. Without thinking he moved and stepped into Guinevere's space. He thought she would step back, but the way she held her ground and glared up at him defiantly pushed him on. "I don't know how you can stand there and say he wasn't all over you!" Now he was yelling at her, he was so angry he almost felt like he was on fire. "If he'd been any closer he'd have been halfway down your throat, but I suppose even you'd think twice about that with my children around. I'm amazed you didn't fob them off to my father so you could be on your own with him, and then God knows what I would have come back to!" Arthur just couldn't stop himself now. The fury inside him boiled over and spilled out of his mouth in a torrent. "What would it have been then, Guinevere?" he demanded, feeling his pulse throbbing from behind his eyes. "A cosy afternoon of passion with your boyfriend in our bed, while I was out of your way?"

Guinevere gasped in shock. When she raised her right hand Arthur thought she was going to slap him, but her hand quickly covered her lips and huge tears began to spill from her eyes. Her hand fell away a moment later, though the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. "How could you say that to me?" Guinevere sobbed as she spoke. "How could you, you of all people, think me capable of being…." She stopped talking and shook her head in stunned disbelief.

"Of being unfaithful?" The words poured out of Arthur's mouth. He refused to let himself give in to Guinevere's tears, even if every better instinct he had wanted to unsay what he'd said to her. He steeled himself against her tears and the agony in her eyes and went on. "I would have thought that was obvious, you couldn't keep your eyes off him, and how do I know what goes on while I'm away?"

Guinevere shook her head again and tears seemed to roll faster down her cheeks, leaving stains on her skin. "He's my friend, he's just my friend. I thought you trusted me Arthur, I really thought you trusted me." Guinevere's voice echoed the stunned disbelief in her eyes.

Arthur's anger suddenly vanished. Instead, he was filled with agonising pain. He felt tears begin to well up in the back of his throat and gritted his teeth to hold them back. He wouldn't break down in front of her and show her his weakness. Swallowing hard, he looked into her eyes. "I thought I _could_ trust you, Guinevere," he lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "I was obviously wrong."

"So, what are you going to do?" Guinevere wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and seemed to regain her composure. "Are you going to apply for a divorce again, because I'm telling you Arthur, if you do that to me again I won't stop you this time. If you hurt me like that again I'll let you go through with it and we'll be finished for good and I swear to God, I'll never forgive you for doing that to our children, just because of your petty jealousy."

The calm way Guinevere spoke struck terror into Arthur's heart. Icy dread began to cling to him, but he willed himself to stay in control. "I don't know what I'm going to do, I need to think." His voice sounded like it was stuck in the back of his throat.

Guinevere nodded steadily. She fought to stay calm, but all of a sudden she wanted to hurt Arthur as much as he'd hurt her. "I see, so what happens next, are you going again or will you be staying the night for a change? The children will be surprised if you're still here in the morning, they've almost got used to you being away so much. If I was you I'd go and introduce yourself, they might have forgotten who you are by now, and you could probably do with the reminder that you have children."

Guinevere's words stung Arthur to the core, just as she knew they would. He saw a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. "You know very well I've been away working," he defended himself. "I would never forget my children."

Guinevere nodded as if to agree with him, the triumph she'd felt moments before still lingering. "No, I'm sure, it's just your wife you've forgotten." In spite of herself, her tears started to flow again, she did nothing to hide them. "You push me away from you for months. You can barely bring yourself to speak to me or touch me or anything, and then you leave me alone with our children for weeks at a time without even so much as a phone call to let me know you're all right, and then you walk back in here and accuse me of having an affair, all because I asked a nice man, a friend who pays me more attention than you've paid me in so long I can hardly remember, to have Sunday lunch with us? Honestly Arthur, can you hear yourself? Can you actually hear how pathetic you sound?"

"I'm not being pathetic!" Arthur's voice rose defensively. "Don't you dare turn this around on me because you've been caught out with lover boy!"

"He is not my lover!" Guinevere's voice became shrill in her frustration. She closed her mouth and quickly regained control. "After everything we've been through, after we worked so hard to get back together after Gwydre died, how could you think me capable of having an affair Arthur, don't you know me at all?"

Arthur shook his head. "I thought I knew you, Guinevere. I thought we knew each other better than anyone else would ever know us, but that's obviously something else I was wrong about."

Guinevere nodded. "Well then, if you feel like that there's nothing else to be said, is there?"

The weight of Guinevere's words slammed in to Arthur. Her detached, icy tone struck him as if she'd levelled a punch to his guts, but he wouldn't allow himself to back down. The images of her with that man were engraved in his mind, but before he could say anything, she spoke again.

"Shall I tell you what's really funny?" Guinevere's lips turned upwards into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"What?" Arthur demanded. "I don't think there's anything remotely funny about this."

"Oh, but there is," Guinevere's voice was almost unrecognisable to Arthur, but he let her go on. "The funny thing is, I was almost dreading you coming home because I had something to tell you."

"What did you have to tell me?" Arthur's patience was fraying. He was in no mood to play games and Guinevere's sudden cold detachment was making him nervous. He wanted to shake her, he wanted to remind her she was his, no one else's, but he knew if he touched her he'd never let her go, and still the images of her with that man lingered in his mind.

To Arthur's surprise, Guinevere shook her head. "It doesn't matter now, it's not important."

"Guinevere," Arthur's tone was a warning, so he couldn't believe it when she stood in front of him and laughed softly.

"That's another thing," Guinevere's amusement slipped away and she was detached again. "Did you know that you used to almost stop my breath when you said my name?" She released another soft huff of laughter, almost under her breath. "You'd call me love or sweetheart, or anything like that and it was nice, but nothing meant more to me than you saying my name like you used to. You could make me feel like gold, Arthur, did you know that? Just by calling me by my name, you could make me feel like the most beautiful, the most desirable woman in the world, but you rarely use it any more. It's like that game of tag I was playing with the children and Lance in the garden. I've become an 'it' to you, someone who stands there trying to reach out to you, but you're too busy running around to notice, and you'll do anything to stop me getting close enough to touch you."

If Arthur had been thinking straight he'd have thought over what Guinevere said. He would have wondered over what she said about the way he said her name, he would have denied that his feelings and behaviour had changed towards her, but anger and resentment still coursed through his veins, so he said the first thing he could think of. "I'm not the one who is having an affair, _Guinevere_ ," he put all the emphasis on her name he could manage, knowing he was being cruel, but in that moment he didn't care.

Guinevere schooled her features so that Arthur's sarcastic use of her name wouldn't show on her face, but still it felt like he'd pushed a knife into her heart. The pain in her side from earlier still niggled, making her feel tired and worn out. She suddenly wanted to sleep, she wanted to close her eyes and sleep for hours. She wanted to wake up on another day and find the last few hours, even the last weeks and months, had been nothing more than a bad dream, but she knew it was impossible. Arthur was being stubborn, he wouldn't see what was right in front of him and there was nothing to be done about it. She didn't even bother trying to deny his accusation again. She knew he wouldn't believe her

Arthur and Guinevere stood in silence for what felt like an age. Eventually Guinevere moved and sat down on the old leather sofa they'd brought with them from their flat when they moved into the house. Arthur stood staring out of the French windows, looking at nothing in particular. When the television in the living room became silent they both seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the inevitable. They didn't have to wait long.

Llacheu and Amhar almost tip-toed through the kitchen and into the family room. They sat down on either side of their mother on the sofa. Guinevere dragged a bright smile to her face and hugged her children to her. "Did you enjoy Snow White _again_?" She'd lost count of the number of times they'd sat through their favourite DVD. She was sure they must know the whole film word for word by now.

"Will you come and watch another DVD with us?" Llacheu asked, his eyes drifting between his parents. As he looked between his parents, Llacheu's brows furrowed, as if he was trying to work something out.

Guinevere's heart sank. She knew Llacheu didn't say much, but he never missed a thing. He would pick up on the atmosphere between her and Arthur and he'd have questions. She wondered how she could explain what had happened to him. She came up with nothing, but forced another smile to her lips and nodded. "I'll come and watch another DVD with you, but I think Daddy has something he has to go and do, Arthur?"She looked at Arthur's profile as he stared out of the French windows.

Arthur dragged his attention from looking out through the French windows. He couldn't bring himself to look at Guinevere's face, so he turned his attention to his son. "Yes, I'm sorry Champ," he used the nickname for Llacheu he hadn't used for ages and made an excuse for himself. "Uncle Gwaine has phoned me on my mobile. He needs me to go and help him do something."

"Can we come with you and see Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa?" Amhar cut in, looking up at her father with wide eyes.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "No Princess, I'm sorry. Uncle Gwaine needs me at the restaurant, not his and Auntie Sefa's house. You stay with Mummy and watch another DVD. What about The Lion King, you love that one." Arthur used Amhar's nickname, the name he'd given her when he first held her in his arms on the day she was born. It made him ache.

Amhar opened her mouth to say something else, but she closed it again abruptly and didn't argue with her father. Guinevere sensed her daughter had also picked up on the awkward atmosphere and her heart broke for both of her children. She wondered how the children would cope if the chasm that had opened up between her and Arthur couldn't be fixed. If it led to divorce would he fight her for the children, or would he turn his back on them like he'd been doing for so many months? She had no idea. Suddenly she felt like she no longer knew the man she'd married. The thought was frightening.

Arthur bent and hugged each of his children in turn. Guinevere wondered why he was suddenly being so affectionate towards them, he'd barely touched either of them for months. Something inside her constricted and the niggle in her side became a pain again, but she forced herself not to react and said nothing. She tried to make eye contact with Arthur, to see if she could work out what he was thinking and planning to do, but he resolutely refused to look at her and turned away. Without another word he walked away, through the family room and into the kitchen. A moment later she heard the front door open and then close, and then she heard the familiar sound of Arthur's car when he started the engine and drove away. Pushing down an urge to rush out of the room and burst into tears, Guinevere dragged another smile to her lips and hugged her children again. "Right, come on then you two, are we watching The Lion King or what?"

"Can we watch Bambi instead, Thumper and Flower are funny?" Amhar asked the question when they all got to their feet and made their way towards the living room.

Guinevere heaved a sigh. "Are you sure you want to watch Bambi darling, you know you always cry when Bambi's Mummy dies?"

Amhar looked up at her mother with innocent eyes. "I won't cry Mummy, I promise."

Guinevere sighed again and gave in, sensing it was a bad idea. "Alright then, Bambi it is, come on then." She slipped her arms around both of her children and held them close as they went into the living room.

Putting the DVD on and sitting between her children, Guinevere watched the old animated film play out. She listened to the children laugh at Flower and Thumper, she listened to Amhar cooing over the baby animals. She joined in with the children when they sang along to the songs in the film. When, halfway through the film, Bambi's mother was shot by a hunter, Amhar didn't cry, but Guinevere did.


	9. Chapter 9

**I must start by passing on my sincere thanks to those of you who left reviews for chapter 8. As one reviewer rightly said, it was an intense chapter. I felt it needed to be. Having Arthur coming back on to the scene wanting to put things right and then having things go sour made sense in my head, and I felt that having anyone else in the scene where Arthur and Guinevere argue wouldn't be right. I was particularly keen to avoid them arguing while the children were in the room, the children would have been a distraction, so I went for something where it was just them. I also felt doing the chapter from Arthur's standpoint worked out quite well, although I wanted to be a voice for Guinevere too. I hope I got the balance right with that, but either way, I did try.**

 **Just to be clear and to deal with something one reviewer said, when Guinevere asks Arthur what he's going to do, she isn't waiting for him to do something. What she's doing is having a go at him. What she's saying is 'you left me before, you started divorce proceedings before, and if you're going to do that again you go ahead and do it.' She's taking matters into her own hands and challenging Arthur, calling his bluff if you like. However, to be clear, this story will not be turning into a copy of Six Weeks To Midnight, they will not get to the brink of a divorce again. Without giving too much away, Arthur will know exactly where he stands by the end of the story.**

 **Now on to chapter 9. As always, please read and review, I like it when you do.**

Arthur drove to the Rising Sun without having any real sense of where he was going. He was on auto-pilot, taking the familiar route by habit. He drove through the town without seeing any of the usual sights. The only thing he saw in front of him was Guinevere in his garden, laughing and joking with that man and looking up at him as if she was hanging on his every word.

Arriving at the restaurant, Arthur got out of his car and locked it with his key lock, and then he stepped up on to the pavement and walked inside the building. When he walked in Leon was stood at the bar. He acknowledged Arthur with a silent nod of the head and then elbowed Gwaine, who was standing at the bar with his back to Arthur. Gwaine was about to set up a new bottle of something into the wall mounted optic behind the bar.

When Leon elbowed him in the side Gwaine looked up from what he was doing. He glowered at his business partner and spoke under his breath so as not to be heard by the diners having a late Sunday lunch in the restaurant. "Hey, what are you doing?" he grasped the bottle in his hand and secured it to the optic on the wall. "If I'd dropped that, you'd have been cleaning up the mess with your tongue, it cost a bloody fortune."

"We have a visitor," Leon angled his head towards the bar and nodded in Arthur's direction. Arthur climbed up on to a bar stool and waited for Gwaine to face him.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Gwaine turned round. "What the hell are you….my God, look what the cat dragged in!" Gwaine turned from Leon and saw Arthur sitting at the bar.

"Good to see you too, Gwaine," Arthur said dryly.

"Where the bloody hell have you been!" Gwaine demanded, glaring at Arthur. A couple of diners turned to the bar when Gwaine raised his voice. Eyeing Gwaine with a warning look, which Gwaine dismissed with another roll of his eyes, Leon excused himself quietly and went to the tables, circulating around the room in an attempt to distract attention from the argument he knew was coming. Gwaine had been going on for months about how rarely they saw Arthur in the restaurant these days, and he'd been especially upset when Gwen had been to the restaurant with Llacheu and Amhar for Gwydre's birthday and Arthur was nowhere to be found. Gwaine had gone on and on about that for days, Leon recalled, while he chatted amiably to customers and then walked back to the bar only just long enough to go through a door behind the bar and go to the kitchen, out of the way of Gwaine's wrath when it came, which, Leon knew, was inevitable.

"Don't start Gwaine," Arthur warned his friend wearily. "I've had it up to here," he raised a hand to the level of his forehead, "I don't need it from you as well. I believe it's customary to offer people a drink in bar, so how about serving me a whiskey?"

Gwaine eyed Arthur suspiciously, his glare slipping away. "What's up with you, you don't even like whiskey?"

Arthur's patience started to fade. He'd forgotten Gwaine's ability to remember people's drinks preferences. "I just fancy a whiskey, all right? Are you going to serve me, or are you just going to stand there for the rest of the day?"

Without another word, Gwaine selected a glass from under the bar and then he turned his back on Arthur to get the drink. When he had a measure of the amber liquid in the glass he turned around and offered it to Arthur, who picked the glass up and knocked the liquid back in one go. "Another one," Arthur pushed the glass back towards Gwaine as he spoke. His voice came out huskily, the heat from the whiskey making him feel like he'd swallowed fire.

Gwaine gave Arthur another suspicious look, and then something inside him clicked into place. "I take it this sudden urge to drink alcohol and see me means something is wrong?" He served Arthur with another drink as he spoke. "What is it, has Gwen given you hell for spending so much time away from her and the kids?"

Arthur swallowed down his second drink and grimaced against the taste. He shook his head, but Gwaine saw something in his eyes. He'd hit a raw nerve. "I don't want to talk about Guinevere."

Gwaine nodded and his face cracked into a smile. "That means I'm right, doesn't it?" he gloated. "Gwen's given you hell and you've come in here to drown your sorrows." Gwaine's smile suddenly vanished and he was glaring again. "Well good for Gwen, it's about time she stood up to all the crap you've been pulling lately. What did she say to you, did she tell you what a selfish git you are?"

Annoyed with his friend for pushing and prodding into things that were none of his business, Arthur got to his feet. The whiskey he'd drunk so quickly went straight to his head as he stood. He felt slightly disembodied and slow, but he pulled himself together. "I told you, I don't want to talk about Guinevere, so if you're not going to get me another drink, I'll go." He turned his back on the bar and went to walk away.

"Oh sit down you silly sod," Gwaine sighed in irritation. He watched Arthur hesitate for a moment and then he watched him climb back up onto the bar stool he'd just got up from, though rather less gracefully than he'd got up there the first time. Gwaine waited for Arthur to make himself comfortable and then he got him another drink. He handed the drink over to Arthur and then he held his hand out. For a moment Arthur thought he wanted paying and got his wallet out, but Gwaine shook his head. "Car keys," he said simply.

Arthur sniggered. "Look Gwaine, I'm not one of your lunch time customers you can push around. I'm perfectly safe to drive, you're not having my keys."

The drink Gwaine had just served sat on the bar in front of Arthur. Gwaine picked it up before Arthur could stop him. Arthur muttered a string of expletives under his breath and tried to reach the drink, but Gwaine didn't even flinch. He held the drink further away from his friend and looked him straight in the eye. "Look, I don't know what's got into you, but Gwen would never forgive me if I let you get drunk in here and then let you go and wrap yourself around a lamp post, so either give me your keys, or I'll be serving you coffee for the rest of the night. I take it you are planning to spend your evening here?"

"Guinevere doesn't care what I do," Arthur sighed and shook his head, but knowing Gwaine wasn't going to give in, he handed over his car keys. "She doesn't need me any more," he went on, taking another scorching swig of whiskey. The images of Guinevere with that man were in the front of his mind again and he gave himself up to them. "She's got herself a boyfriend, I saw them together."

For a split second Gwaine's mouth hung open in shock. He blinked a moment later and released a bellow of laughter. He stifled his loud laugh when everyone at the row of tables nearest the bar turned to look at him. Straightening his face quickly. Gwaine lowered his voice, but his eyes still shone with mirth. "Look mate, I think we'd better find you something else to drink, that whiskey is making you talk rubbish already!"

Arthur's face remained straight. "I wasn't joking, I saw them together. When I got back from Manchester just now, she was in my garden with him and the children. She couldn't keep her eyes off him and he was all over her like a rash."

Gwaine frowned quietly for a moment and then he fixed Arthur with an icy stare. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, you've obviously got your head up your arse over something, but don't you dare sit there and insult Gwen, not when you left her alone to deal with Gwydre's birthday on her own. How could you let her tell Llacheu and Amhar about him on her own?"

"I was working!" Arthur cried defensively. He took another gulp of whiskey and welcomed the feeling of detachment that came over him, but still the image of Guinevere with that man wouldn't fade.

Gwaine nodded. "I see, and work obviously matters more to you now than your wife and kids, is that right?" As he spoke Gwaine felt anger starting to rise up inside him. He thought of everything he'd been through with Sefa to try for a baby. They'd tried everything and spent a fortune, but none of it had worked. The thought of Arthur willingly spending weeks at a time away from his family made him feel sick with disgust and he'd been waiting for months to tell Arthur so.

"Of course it's not right," Arthur took another swig of whiskey. The burn the liquid created at the back of his throat was beginning to fade. He was starting to feel nicely light-headed, but still the image of Guinevere and that man lingered in his mind. "What do you take me for Gwaine, I can't help it if work takes me away. I have to keep a roof over our heads, don't I, and it doesn't justify what she's done to me!"

"You selfish git!" Gwaine had to fight with himself to avoid yelling. He almost shook with the effort of holding his temper in check. "You've been leaving that woman on her own for months and you make it sound like you're doing her a favour!" Now Gwaine was becoming really angry. "Do you have even the slightest idea how lucky you are to have her and those kids? That woman is holding down a job, she's running your house single handedly and she's spending her every waking moment looking after your kids without any thought for herself, so you swan back in and expect her to roll out the welcome mat for you!"

"I never said that!" Arthur's own anger was starting to rise. "Even if I did, it doesn't justify her having an affair!"

"Oh, she's not having an affair, don't be so bloody stupid!" Gwaine was almost biting his tongue to stop himself shouting, but he knew he hadn't been entirely successful when Leon suddenly reappeared from out of the kitchen at the back of the building. Gwaine could see Leon looking across the restaurant at him and Arthur as he went back to circulating around the diners. He was standing at one of the tables talking to a couple, but every so often he was looking at Gwaine and Arthur and casting a warning look at Gwaine, as if to remind him where he was. The expression on Leon's face was the only thing holding Gwaine back from really giving Arthur a piece of his mind.

"You didn't see them!" Arthur hissed furiously. "He was all over her like a rash, but I should have known you'd take her side, you always have! You've always been more on Guinevere's side than mine, anyone would think _you_ fancy her!"

Now Gwaine was furious. Without even stopping to think about what he was doing, he snatched the drink Arthur was halfway down out of his hand and poured it down the small sink under the bar. Giving in to his temper at last, he raised his voice. "GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT!"

Leon dashed back over from the other side of the restaurant. "Gwaine, just hang on a second," he warned. "Let's not do anything we'll all regret, we've all been friends for too long for that."

"I SAID, GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT!" Gwaine completely ignored Leon's attempt to calm the situation and leaned over the bar at Arthur, getting right into his face. Leon held on to Gwaine's shoulder to stop him doing anything silly, but he couldn't hold back the anger pouring out of his friend. "YOU'VE GOT FIVE SECONDS TO GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT, OR I'M COMING ROUND THERE TO KICK YOU OUT!"

Arthur got to his feet and sneered at Gwaine. "What, touched a raw nerve, have I? Well stick your restaurant then, and stick your friendship. I don't need you!" With that, Arthur reached forward and snatched his car keys out of Gwaine's hand and then he turned his back on his friends and stormed out of the restaurant. He slammed the door so hard as he went out that the glass panel in the door visibly shook.

When Arthur was gone the whole restaurant was filled with an awkward silence. All the customers had turned from their food and were staring at Gwaine and Leon, waiting with baited breath for whatever happened next. Keeping hold of Gwaine's shoulder, Leon pushed his friend through the door at the back of the bar, away from public view. "What the hell did you think you were doing Gwaine!" Leon cried, unleashing his frustration at last. "Arthur's one of your oldest friends, but more than that, he's a customer, what are people going to think of this place after your little floor show, did you think about that for a second?"

Gwaine was still panting from the effort he'd spent in getting so angry with Arthur. He inhaled a sharp breath before he could speak. "Well, he asked for it, he's a selfish git!" he fumed. "He's got everything right there Leon, a lovely family, two beautiful kids, but he's never there with them, and then when he condescends to come back, he thinks Gwen should put out the welcome mat for him. Well you know what Leon, I hope Gwen has found someone else to pay her some attention, it might teach Arthur a lesson!"

The frustration written across Leon's face slid away. "It would kill him." He looked into Gwaine's eyes seriously.

"Wait a minute," Gwaine's anger began to subside, but he frowned at the solemn expression on Leon's face. "You're not seriously telling me you think Gwen, Gwen of all people, would ever..." he couldn't go on.

Leon shook his head vehemently. "No, of course I don't!"

"Well then, what the hell are you…?" Gwaine struggled to find the words.

Leon sighed and sat down on a small wooden backless bench that stood against the wall in the small hallway between the kitchen and the bar and dining area of the restaurant. He leaned against the cool plastered wall behind him and sighed again. "All I'm saying is, I don't think Gwen would ever do that for a second. Gwen's a good person, we both know that, and Arthur knows it really."

Gwaine released a derisory huff and Leon looked at him sternly before going on. "But you know what Arthur's like, Gwaine. He adores Gwen, he completely idolises her, he has done since he first laid eyes on her in that pub all those years ago, and you remember what he was like when they were apart after Gwydre died. He didn't know which way was up for ages. All I'm saying is, if he lost Gwen again I don't think he'd make it. I honestly don't think he could survive without her."

"Well he's got a funny way of showing it, hasn't he?" Gwaine said, still frowning. "He's spent more time away lately than he has there. If he loves Gwen that much, don't you think he'd want to be with her, and what about the kids?"

Leon thought about what to say before speaking again. He considered his words carefully and then nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, of course, but doesn't that make you think something isn't right?"

Gwaine's frowned deepened further. "What do you mean?"

Leon took a deep breath and then went on. "Well, Arthur has always put Gwen first, apart from when Gwydre died and again now. Since they got back together and worked through the shock of losing Gwydre, Arthur put Gwen above everything, including his business. When Llacheu and Amhar came along Arthur spent every possible minute with them, but Gwen was still the centre of his world. All I'm saying is, he ran away from his problems after Gwydre died, because he was frightened, so what is he frightened of now? Doesn't it occur to you that we might not have got the whole picture?"

The frown on Gwaine's face vanished. He thought over what Leon was saying, his mind going back over the dark time Arthur and Gwen had after they lost Gwydre. Arthur had been sleeping on the floor in the flat Gwaine used to share with Leon for months, because he couldn't bear the thought of losing Gwen. She'd pushed him away, Gwaine remembered Arthur confiding one evening in the flat, after a few drinks, so he'd gone before she could leave him alone. Was Arthur really running away from something now, and if so, what was it? Then he had another thought. "What about him accusing Gwen of having an affair though Leon, surely you can't justify that?"

Leon shook his head again. "I don't justify any of it Gwaine, I'm just trying to make you see that we might be missing something, and if you'd just kept a lid on your temper, we might have got to the bottom of it, that's all." Gwaine opened his mouth to defend himself, but Leon silenced him with another stern expression. "Look, Arthur is insecure. Beneath all that arrogance he's bluffing all the time. He's like a swan, serene and sure of himself on the surface, but under the water he's kicking like hell all the time. He's never thought he was good enough for Gwen, so when he went home today and found a strange man laughing and joking with his wife, he was bound to jump to completely the wrong conclusion, wasn't he?"

"Yes, well, he's always been an idiot," Gwaine smirked, releasing a wry laugh.

Leon nodded and cracked a smile. "I never said he wasn't." Then Leon's face straightened. "The thing is, how far is Arthur going to go with his idiocy, because if he goes too far and loses Gwen, I'm not sure he'll live to regret it."

Gwaine stared at Leon for several silent, long seconds, unable to come up with anything to say. Leon stood after a moment and that was the cue for the end of the conversation, although both men were deep in thought. Leon turned towards the kitchen and Gwaine went back out to the bar, but neither of them could stop thinking about Arthur and Guinevere.

A few hours later, Guinevere tucked Llachue and Amhar into bed. She assumed that Arthur had done exactly what he'd said to Amhar when he left the house and had gone to the Rising Sun. He didn't reapper as the afternoon turned to evening, so Guinevere had spent the rest of the day with the children, watching DVD's. From Bambi they'd moved on to another perennial favourite, The Lion King, and from that to Dumbo. Finding Nemo had finished the day off. The children had watched the films with their usual enthusiasm, laughing and singing along, even though they'd seen all of them dozens of times, but whilst Guinevere joined in with Bambi, her mind going back to watching it with Elyan as a child, she kept thinking about a theme that recurred in each of the films. Each of the main characters had at least one absent parent. With this thought Guinevere's mind would stray back to Arthur. She couldn't banish their fight in the family room out of her mind, couldn't forget the things they'd said to each other.

Guinevere wondered now if she should have told Arthur about the new baby. Would that have brought him to his senses? Even as the question went through here mind, she rejected it. She knew Arthur well enough to know, if she'd told him about the baby he might have been pleased and might have let his jealousy go, but she would have then spent her life wondering if he was still with her for her, or for the new baby, and however tempting that was on one level, she knew she wouldn't have been able to live like that, not with him. The other thought she couldn't shift was that he might not have cared if she'd told him she was pregnant. He might've still accused her of having an affair, so perhaps she was right to keep her news to herself until a time came when Arthur was ready to hear it, if the time came at all, a voice in her head she tried to ignore, said.

Later, having had dinner with the children and then supervised them cleaning their teeth and getting ready for bed, Guinevere sat on Llacheu's bed under the low light of the lamp on his bedside table. She'd already helped Amhar to change and put her to bed. Having run around in the fresh air nearly all afternoon, Amhar had been exhausted when bedtime came around. She was already half asleep when Guinevere helped her into a pair of pyjamas and was fast asleep by the time Guinevere switched her butterfly night lights on and whispered goodnight. Settling Llacheu into bed, Guinevere was just about to stand up and leave him for the night when he spoke. "I liked Lance Mum, can he come again, another day?"

Guinevere looked down into the innocent eyes of her son and forced a smile to her lips. "I think Lance liked you and Amhar. He was very impressed with your football. He thinks you'll be ready to get into a team when you're six, so we'll do our best, all right?"

Llacheu beamed with pleasure and nodded, but then his face straightened. "But can Lance come again?"

Guinevere thought about what to say before finding her voice. "Well, Lance is quite busy darling, so I can't promise, but we'll see." She adopted a light and casual tone so as not to build Llacheu's hopes up, only to let him down.

"Dad didn't like him, did he?" Llacheu said solemnly, looking wiser than his years. "We heard you arguing with Dad when we were watching Snow White. Amhar got a bit scared when you and Dad were shouting. Why were you shouting, was it because he didn't like Lance?"

Listening to Llacheu speak broke Guinevere's heart. She known Llacheu would have questions, he never missed a thing, but the thought of both of the children hearing the fight she'd had with Arthur, hearing them shout at each other and being frightened by it, was heartbreaking.

Thinking over what to say while she occupied herself by tucking Llacheu in, Guinevere took one of his hands in hers. She dragged another smile to her lips. "I think your Dad was just tired sweetheart, he'd been driving for a long time so that he could get home. I don't think he expected to find someone here with us, that's all, and he got a bit grumpy because he was tired."

Llacheu's brows arched as he thought what Guinevere said over. Although he resembled her so closely, he had her features in almost every way, when Llacheu was deep in thought the resemblance to his father was uncanny. "So, he was like Amhar when she's tired?"

Llachue asked the question artlessly, without any sense of trying to be funny, but Guinevere's smile widened slightly all the same. He was exactly right, Amhar could be grumpy when she was tired. She'd lacked the energy to complain too much when Guinevere put her to bed that night, but sometimes, if she'd had a few busy days in a row, or an unintentional later night than usual, it would inevitably lead to a temper tantrum the next day, and, it was fair to say, it was exactly like her father. Forcing herself to straighten her face so that Llacheu wouldn't think she was laughing at him, Guinevere nodded. "Yes, a bit like Amhar, but I don't think he was because he didn't like Lance, because he really doesn't know Lance, does he?"

Llacheu considered that thought and then yawned widely. Guinevere saw the way his eyes were starting to close and kissed him gently before getting to her feet. As she stood the pain in her side twinged sharply, but she ignored it, telling herself she'd overdone it in the garden and she'd probably pulled a muscle or something. She made a mental note to take some painkillers before she went to bed. "Sleep well my darling," she said softly, turning out the lamp in Llacheu's room.

"G'night Mum, love you," she heard Llacheu say through another yawn and then she heard him turn on to his side as she walked out of his room and went downstairs.

Once the children were in bed, Guinevere was alone. She put the television on quietly in the family room and then went through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She looked out through the kitchen window through the fading light and knew instinctively that Arthur wouldn't be home that night. She wondered where he'd gone. She was tempted to phone Uther and see if he'd gone there, but she didn't want to worry her father in law this late in the evening without a good reason, and, she told herself, she had no real reason to think Arthur would do anything silly. Her mind went over Arthur's moods, his long absences and his detachment even when he was at home, as well as his disturbed sleep and she was tempted to phone his mobile to see where he was, but, she reminded herself, Arthur was a grown man who was capable of thinking for himself. He wouldn't appreciate it if he thought she, or anyone else for that matter, was checking up on him, especially in the mood he was in, so she resolved to let him get on with it, but her worry still lingered.

Sitting in the family room an hour or so later, Guinevere started to think about going to bed. The pain in her side was still causing her discomfort, so she decided getting into bed and sleeping it off might be a good idea, but just as she got up, the phone rang. She went into the kitchen and picked up the cordless phone from its base on the wall, feeling glad she'd talked Arthur into putting a phone in the kitchen when they moved into the house. They also had a phone upstairs, in their bedroom, and she hoped it hadn't disturbed the children when it rang.

"Hello?" Guinevere answered warily. She couldn't think who would be calling so late in the evening.

"Hi Gwen, it's Sefa, I'm sorry to be calling you so late," the voice on the end of the line said apologetically.

Guinevere smiled, she was glad to hear a friendly and familiar voice. "Sefa, don't worry, it's fine," she took the phone back into the family room as she spoke and sat down on the old sofa, making herself comfortable to speak to her friend.

"Listen Gwen," Sefa went on, getting to the point of her call without any unnecessary preamble. "I've just got in from a shift at work, but Gwaine got in touch with me earlier. He isn't back from the restaurant yet, but he phoned and asked me to call you when I got in. I don't want to worry you Gwen, but Gwaine sounded a bit worried. He said Arthur showed up at the restaurant this afternoon. He didn't say much, but he gave me the impression Arthur was in a mood, and you know what Gwaine is like, he got frustrated with Arthur and they ended up having a row, right there in the restaurant, and Gwaine threw him out. Apparently Leon had to play referee and sort it out, but when Gwaine calmed down he was worried about Arthur. He wanted me to ask if Arthur had come home and if he was all right?"

Guinevere's heart sank. She could almost picture Arthur and Gwaine arguing, and she knew Gwaine had been frustrated by Arthur's long absences, almost as much as her over the last few months. If Arthur had gone to the restaurant looking for sympathy after seeing her with Lance, it might have been all Gwaine needed to push his frustration too far.

"Gwen, are you still there?" Sefa's voice cut across Guinevere's thoughts.

"Yes, sorry, I was just thinking," Guinevere said, blinking. Feeling awkward, she asked the question on her mind. "Did Gwaine tell you what they argued about?"

"No," Sefa replied, "but he gave me the impression things got quite heated. He said he got right in Arthur's face over the bar and Leon was almost holding him back. Then he said he told Arthur to get out. Arthur went, but Gwaine was worried later because Arthur'd had a couple of drinks, so Gwaine wasn't sure he was really fit to drive, especially in the mood he was in."

Guinevere heaved a sigh and closed her eyes, the worry she'd had in the back of her mind since watching Arthur walk out of the family room earlier rising another notch. Opening her eyes, she turned her attention back to the phone call, while her mind turned to Arthur and hoped he was safe somewhere, sleeping off whatever he'd drunk, because the alternative was too horrible to think about. Sighing again, she spoke. "Arthur came back earlier Sefa, but no, he's not here now." In spite of her efforts, Guinevere's voice broke and she felt the burn of tears in the back of her throat. She swallowed them down by sheer force of will. She wasn't going to cry, she told herself firmly. "The truth is, we had a row, a big one."

"I'm sorry," Sefa's voice came down the line. Guinevere could tell by her tone, she was at a loss for what else to say. "What was the row about, I'm sure it was nothing that can't be fixed. You and Arthur love each other, we all know that. I know he's been away a lot, and that can't be easy for you, but you and Arthur will get through it Gwen, I'm sure you will."

Sefa's kindness was too much for Guinevere. The pain in her side was a constant ache and added to the feeling of being worn out. In spite of her determination not to cry, she allowed her tears to fall at last. "I'm not sure we will Sefa, I don't think he loves me any more. He accused me of having an affair." Guinevere cried harder.

"Oh Gwen," Sefa's heart went out to her friend. "I'm sure Arthur loves you, and I'm sure he didn't mean what he said. You know what men are like, they say things when they're in a mood. Gwaine does it. If I took things to heart when Gwaine gets in a mood we'd have been divorced long ago, but he'll say stupid things and then, when he's had chance to think and get over himself, he'll apologise. I'm sure Arthur will be like that. He'll go and sleep off his drinks somewhere, and then, in the morning, he'll be there with an apology and a bunch of flowers."

Guinevere shook her head and tried to stem the flow of her tears. "No, you didn't see him, Sefa. He was furious."

Gathering herself, Guinevere explained about Lance, the way she'd been shadowing him at work and how they'd become friendly, starting to go for walks after work and then for coffee. She told Sefa about inviting Lance to Sunday lunch when he offered to watch Llacheu play football, and then she told Sefa about Arthur arriving back from Manchester and finding her with Lance, laughing and joking in the garden.

Sefa sighed when Guinevere finished speaking. "So, what's this Lance like, do you like him?"

Even though Sefa couldn't see, Guinevere nodded. "Yes, he's nice, he's thoughtful, he's paid attention to me in a way Arthur hasn't for ages."

"But do you like him Gwen, is he a friend, or is he more than that?" Sefa asked the directly and waited for Gwen's answer.

Sefa's frank question made Guinevere think. What did she really feel for Lance? Deep down she knew she'd enjoyed his attention. He'd made her feel good about herself. He made her feel like more than someone's wife, or someone's mother or daughter. He made her feel like herself, like a person in her own right. It was liberating to feel like she was an individual again, not just Arthur's wife or the children's mother, and Lance had given her that, but did that mean she thought of him as more than a friend?

Thinking of the times Lance had touched her, whether accidentally or deliberately, Guinevere flushed when she thought of how she'd responded to him, but was it because she was genuinely attracted to him, or was it because she'd missed the way Arthur used to touch her and show his feelings for her in that way?

Guinevere thought of her life with Arthur, the way they'd met and fallen in love. She thought of the life they'd built together. She thought of the life they had with Gwydre and the pain they went through when they lost him. Guinevere thought of the way she and Arthur had worked so hard to work things out when they began to recover from Gwydre's loss. She thought of the way they started again, building a new life with Llacheu and Amhar. Had that really gone? She asked herself the question for the first time, and did what she felt for Lance compare?

In a flash, Guinevere knew. What she felt for Lance was a bit like a teenager with a first crush. If she was honest with herself, she had found him attractive, but it had been a physical reaction to a handsome man, it wasn't because she felt for him in the way she felt for Arthur. She'd responded to the attention he'd given her because she'd been missing it from Arthur, not because she wanted it from Lance.

Gathering herself, Guinevere found her voice again. "Lance is my friend, there's nothing more to it than that. I love Arthur, I've always loved Arthur. Even when he isn't here and he drives me mad, I still love Arthur, but that's why he's driving me mad, Sefa." She swallowed another lump in her throat and bit back more tears. "I love him, but he's never here, and it doesn't even feel like he's here when he is, so what do I do?"

Despite the sympathy she felt for her friend, Sefa smiled. "If you love each other, you'll work it out. I'm sure Arthur loves you Gwen, and I know you love him, so I know you'll work it out."

The two friends chatted for a while and then they ended the call. Sefa asked Guinevere to let her and Gwaine know if Arthur got in touch and Guinevere did the same. Wishing each other a good night, they put the phone down.

Feeling exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Guinevere went to bed. Perhaps things would feel better in the morning, she told herself, though she couldn't rid herself of the feeling of uncertainty inside her.

Guinevere woke early the next morning. She'd had a bad night. The painkillers she'd taken before settling down to sleep the previous night had done nothing for the pain in her side. They were just some standard over the counter painkillers she knew wouldn't harm the baby, but consequently, they hadn't touched her pain. It had woken her several times in the night and each time she'd struggled to get comfortable enough to settle back down to sleep again. During the night the pain, which she was certain had seemed to be a dull ache the previous day, had sharpened and seemed to be centred around her left hip.

Forcing herself to get out of bed when every instinct she had told her to stay where she was, Guinevere felt exhaustion creeping over her. She pulled herself together and reminded herself she had to get the children ready for school and she had to go to work. She repeated what she'd told herself the day before, that she'd probably overdone it running around in the garden and had probably pulled a muscle. She made a mental note to make an appointment to see Gaius when she had time. She needed to see him about the pregnancy anyway, she mused. It wouldn't do any harm to speak to him about the pain, especially if it didn't get any better.

Over the next hour or so Guinevere got the children up, gave them breakfast and helped them get ready for their day at school. She put the way everything seemed to take more of an effort than usual down to her bad night's sleep. When Llacheu looked at her, studying her features closely, she dragged a smile up from nowhere, not wanting to worry him, but she sensed he wasn't convinced. When, later, she dropped him off at school, he hugged her tightly against him and told her he loved her. Even though Llacheu was affectionate and didn't hide his feelings, she couldn't recall him ever doing that at the school gates before. She wondered if he could see her tiredness and told herself to brighten up before she picked the children up later in the day.

Some time later, when Guinevere had dropped both of her children off to school and pre-school, she stopped her car outside her first care call of the day. Lance's car was parked in front of hers and he stood on the pavement waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her and waved. Guinevere smiled to acknowledge him, stopped her car and got out.

"Good morning," Lance said brightly. "What do you think of my new uniform?" He indicated to the black t-shirt he wore with the Camelot Care logo on the left breast. The t-shirt was accompanied by a pair of dark red trousers, the same shade as Guinevere's work trousers. "Hunith sent them to me to save me having to go and pick them up. They arrived this morning before I came out to work, so I changed. What do you think, does it look all right?"

Conscious of the conversation she'd had with Sefa the previous night, when she'd realised she had felt attracted to Lance on some level, Guinevere tried not to look like she was eyeing Lance up and down too closely when she looked at his uniform. It suited him. It looked smart, in-keeping with the standards Hunith set as the Care Coordinator for the agency, but not as feminine as the white tunics the female carers wore.

"It's nice," Guinevere acknowledged with the hint of a smile. "It looks more modern than this," she pointed to her tunic. "I always think these make carers look a bit like nurses, which gives some of them ideas."

Lance nodded, his lips curving into a wry smile, and then a concerned expression formed on his face. "Are you all right, you look a bit pale and tired?"

Guinevere sighed and nodded. "I'm fine, I just can't quite shake off that discomfort from yesterday. It woke me up a couple of times in the night, that's all."

Lance's brows furrowed. "Are you sure you're all right, don't you think you should get it checked out?"

Acknowledging Lance's concern with her eyes, Guinevere forced herself to smile wider. "I promise, I'm fine, but I will get it checked out if it doesn't get any better. Now, are we going to go and do some work, or not?"

Without another word, Lance followed Guinevere up the garden path to their first call of the day. He didn't say another word about her pain, but she felt his eyes on her with every step she took.

Later, on the way to another call, Lance cleared his throat and interrupted the comfortable silence that had fallen over them since they'd they'd got into Guinevere's car to carry on with their day. "I don't think I said, thanks for yesterday's lunch, it was lovely."

The exchange between her and Arthur went through Guinevere's mind again. "I'm sorry it ended so abruptly," embarrassment swept over her when she thought of the way Arthur had completely blanked Lance.

Lance shook his head. "No, it was fine, really. I'm sorry for escaping on you like that. I just felt in your way. I don't think your husband was very pleased to see me."

Guinevere shrugged and kept her eyes on the road ahead. "Arthur was probably tired from the drive back from Manchester. He's not usually so rude." Deep down she wondered why she was making an excuse for Arthur's behaviour, it was more than he deserved.

In the corner of her eye, Guinevere saw Lance nod. "So I haven't complicated things for you then?" he asked, looking at her in profile while she drove to the next call. "Only, when I left, your husband looked annoyed, so I was worried I might have caused an argument or something."

Stopping at a set of traffic lights on red, Guinevere turned a forced smile in Lance's direction. "Everything's fine, don't give it another thought." It didn't even sound convincing to her own ears.

Much earlier in the day, somewhere in the Hampshire countryside, Arthur woke as the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon. He blinked, unsure for a moment where he was. Then he felt the stiffness in his neck and back and remembered. He'd slept in his car all night.

Rotating his neck to try and work out the stiffness, Arthur got out of the car for a stretch. He cast his mind back to the previous day, the row he had with Guinevere after he'd seen her with that man, and then the shouting match he'd had with Gwaine at the Rising Sun.

Looking out over the sprawling Hampshire countryside, Arthur Pendragon asked himself two questions. When did his life start falling apart, and what the hell was he going to do about it?


	10. Chapter 10

**As always, I must start by thanking those of you who are leaving such enthusiastic reviews. I am trying to avoid leaving you waiting too long for chapters, I think I've written three in the last few weeks, but if I seem slow bear with me a bit. I have juggle my writing around quite a lot of other things, so if I don't always update quickly there will be a reason.**

 **I should let you know I've tweaked a little bit of detail on chapter 9. I initially had Leon looking at Gwaine and Arthur arguing while Leon was actually not in the bar, but that didn't work for obvious reasons. I have now tweaked the chapter and Leon is where he needs to be to see Arthur and Gwaine arguing, so now it makes more sense. That will teach me to check a chapter before I upload it.**

 **I know at least one reviewer is concerned about Guinevere's pain. All I can say is stick with me and all will be revealed.**

When Lance suggested they go for a walk after their round of care calls, Guinevere nearly refused him. She'd tried to keep her behaviour normal around him at first, but as the day wore on the conversation she'd had with Sefa the previous night, when she'd admitted to herself that she had been attracted to Lance on some level, kept coming back to mind, along with the fight she'd had with Arthur, making her question her behaviour. What would other people think of her behaviour? Had she been flirting with Lance without realising? Had she encouraged Lance to think she was available? The questions went round in her head and made her second guess her behaviour towards him, so that by the end of the day she was doing everything she could to keep him at arms length and only spoke to him when she was spoken to.

The pain in Guinevere's side was also dragging her mood down and now her back and stomach were starting to ache too. She reminded herself she'd probably pulled a muscle when she was running around in the garden. She knew pulled muscles didn't heal overnight, especially when she had a job where she was constantly having to stretch and bend. She was probably moving differently to counteract the pain in her side, and her back and stomach muscles were probably having to work harder. She was also pregnant, she reminded herself. Aches and pains were common in pregnancy, even from the earliest stages, and so was fatigue, which probably explained why the exhaustion she'd felt when she got up that morning hadn't abated all day. Now it seemed to wrap around her like a cloak, making every movement she made feel heavy and awkward.

Guinevere cast her mind back to when she was pregnant with Gwydre, Llacheu and Amhar. The pregnancy with Llacheu was marred for months by the memory of losing Gwydre so suddenly. For the first few weeks of her pregnancy with Llacheu, Guinevere had wondered if she could bring herself to go ahead with it. The fear of losing another baby in the way they had lost Gwydre loomed large in both Guinevere and Arthur's minds, even when they decided to go ahead, so Guinevere didn't take too much notice of the aches and pains and weariness of those early weeks of the pregnancy, there were more important things to consider. Amhar was another matter altogether. Guinevere remembered the first three months of her pregnancy with her daughter being the most difficult time as she struggled with morning sickness and fatigue.

Llacheu was only nine months old when Guinevere discovered she was pregnant again. She remembered him sitting on her lap in the evenings, giggling at things he could see on the television or babbling away to himself. Most of what he said was indiscernible, but 'Mummummummum!' and 'Daddaddaddad!' was clear enough, and, he soon learned, earned him smiles and attention from his parents. When he settled down and fell into a contented sleep in his mother's arms, Guinevere would snuggle up to Arthur on the sofa in their living room and would fall into a sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat when she rested her head against his chest. When it was time for bed Arthur would wake her gently, taking the sleeping baby out of her arms. Sometimes he would carry the baby to bed and she would follow sleepily behind, watching him put the baby in his cot and make sure he was safe for the night. On other nights Arthur would take the baby from her and tell her to stay where she was. Being too tired to argue, Guinevere would doze off again, her head against the soft back of the sofa, while she waited for him. When he came back downstairs he would pick her up in his arms and carry her to bed. The first few times he did it Guinevere would stir enough to say something about him hurting his back, but he would dismiss her worries and tell her to go back to sleep. Arthur would even help her get ready for bed then. He would help her out of her clothes and into her night things, before tucking her into bed and climbing in beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

Now Arthur's tender care and attention was a distant memory, Guinevere thought wearily, dragging herself out of her memories. Now he was rarely at home, and even if he was, he was distant and detached, or he was moody and spoiling for a fight. It was, Guinevere thought, as if he'd become another person, someone she couldn't recognise as the man she knew.

"We don't have to walk if you don't fancy it," Lance said, when they got back into Guinevere's car after their last care call of the day. "We could just go and sit somewhere quietly for a while. You look like you could do with a break."

"I'm fine," Guinevere dragged the merest hint of a smile to her lips. "I just woke up a couple of times in the night, that's all. I'm sure I'll be fine if I have an early night tonight."

"So how about it then?" Lance asked, changing the subject, although Guinevere could see he wasn't convinced she was being completely honest with him. "Do you fancy a sit down somewhere quiet, just for a little while?"

Giving in because she was too tired to come up with an excuse, Guinevere started her car and drove to one of the parks on the edge of town. She parked the car just outside the tall wrought iron gates to the park and then followed Lance down a long winding walkway. As they walked they passed a tennis court that had seen better days and a bowling green which looked like it hadn't had a lawn mower anywhere near it for months, but the park itself was nice enough. Thick hedges around the edge of the parkland blocked out most of the noise of the city, and neat borders were filled with plants of all different shapes and sizes. Running the length of the park, surrounded by narrow tarmacked walkways, was a huge expanse of grass, where people who had obviously finished their working day early lay in the late afternoon sun, and mothers played with their young children. In the middle of the grassland a young couple were wrapped in each others arms in the shade of an ancient oak.

After walking for a few moments, Lance found a bench and sat down. Guinevere sat next to him, being careful to avoid sitting too close. Feeling her tiredness washing over her again, Guinevere allowed her eyes to close for a moment. She listened to the distant hum of traffic and the cheerful sound of birdsong from the trees, while the heat of the early summer sun soothed her. Wallowing in a moment of peace, she felt, rather than saw, Lance change his position and edge closer on the bench. Behind her closed eyelids, a dark shadow indicated he had closed the space between them.

"What's the matter, Gwen?" Lance asked, breaking the silence between them. "Have I done something to upset you?"

Her quiet moment shattered, Guinevere sighed. She kept her eyes closed, trying to hang on to some semblance of the peace she'd been beginning to feel while she sat in the late afternoon sunshine, but it slipped through her fingers like sand. Giving in, she opened her eyes and found Lance watching her. He was sitting right next to her now, one of his arms draped lazily over the back of the park bench, almost brushing her shoulders. To onlookers he would look like he had his arm around her. The expression on Arthur's face when he discovered her with Lance loomed in Guinevere's mind again and she edged away from him. She saw his brow arch in confusion, but he said nothing. "I don't know what you mean," she said, widening the gap between them again. "What could you have done to upset me?"

Lance shrugged, and to Guinevere's relief, he moved his arm so that it didn't appear to be around her any more. Instead, he sat on his hands, tucking each one under his thighs. Guinevere could feel the tension rolling off him. "I don't know," he replied, an irritated edge to his voice. He took a breath and his tone softened. "I just thought there must be a reason why you've barely spoken to me all day."

Guinevere forced herself to resist the temptation to close her eyes again. "I told you, I'm just tired, and I have spoken to you."

Lance shook his head and the irritation that appeared in his voice a moment before, was now in his eyes. "You've barely spoken to me all day, except for a moment this morning, and then about work."

"Well I'm sorry if I've failed to be entertaining enough for you!" Guinevere snapped, even surprising herself with how harsh she sounded. She saw the irritation in Lance's gaze turn to shock at her tone of voice and winced inwardly. "I...I'm sorry," she lowered her voice until she sounded more like herself. "I'm just so tired, maybe I should go. Will you be all right to walk back to your car from here?" She went to stand as she spoke, but was stilled when Lance reached for one of her hands. He looked into her eyes for what seemed like days, and all the time he was holding her hand as if his life depended on her. For one brief moment Guinevere could read the unguarded feelings in his gaze and her heart thumped in response.

Eventually, when he realised what he was doing, Lance released Guinevere's hand awkwardly and she got to her feet, sensing Arthur in the back of her mind again. Unable to look at Lance, she turned her back on him and gazed into the distance, her eyes drawn to the young couple under the oak tree in the middle of the parkland. They would have been her and Arthur once, she mused, unable to take her eyes off the couple, who kissed and held each other close, completely oblivious to everything and everyone around them.

Guinevere's mind went back to meeting Arthur in her local pub years before, when they were both young and life seemed to spread out before them in an endless stream of possibilities. Her heart lifted at the memory of Arthur staring at her in the pub for ages before he'd plucked up the courage to speak, and in the end it was Gwaine who'd set the ball rolling for him, much to his embarrassment. When they were alone, when Gwaine disappeared to chat up a blonde who turned out to be married, the awkwardness between them disappeared and Guinevere felt like she was falling into the blue of Arthur's eyes. Ignoring the friends she was with to celebrate someone's birthday, she sat with Arthur for the rest of the evening, until she realised her friends had gone. Arthur had walked her home, behaving like a perfect gentleman. They'd exchanged their first kiss on her Dad's front doorstep. Guinevere could still recall every detail of the kiss, the way Arthur tasted of orange juice and salted peanuts, the scent of his aftershave, the way he responded when she slipped her arms around him. Before he'd released her from his arms, looking slightly stunned and lost for words, Guinevere knew she was in love with him.

"Gwen, what really happened yesterday, after I left your house when your husband came back?"

Guinevere blinked and the memory of those early happy days with Arthur slipped away, reminding her of the distance between them now. Hearing Lance speak reminded her of the way he'd just looked at her, as if he needed something from her he couldn't express, and she flushed, refusing to face him. "I told you," she found her voice a moment later. "It was fine, nothing happened. He was just tired, he'd been driving back from Manchester all morning and I don't think he expected us to have company, that's all." Guinevere knew she didn't sound even remotely convincing.

"Only," Lance went on, his voice low and soft, he didn't acknowledge Guinevere's completely unconvincing explanation. "If I've made things difficult for you, you would say, wouldn't you? You do know you can tell me things, don't you?"

Suddenly Lance's gentleness was too much. Guinevere felt a lump rising in her throat. She tried to hold it back, but the sight of the young couple under the tree in the distance made it worse. Before she knew it, Guinevere's shoulders were heaving and she covered her face with her hands.

"Oh, Gwen," Lance got to his feet and reached for Guinevere, turning her to face him. When he moved to hold her she resisted for a moment, attempting to pull herself together, but she couldn't stem the flow of tears and dissolved into weeping again, while Lance gently pulled her towards him and held her in his arms.

Guinevere wept in Lance's arms for several minutes. She leaned against his chest while she wept, his arms supporting her. He stroked her back soothingly and whispered gently in her ear, offering her encouragement and reassurance and telling her how wonderful he thought she was.

Eventually, after a moment, Guinevere eased away from Lance and flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I must be more tired than I thought." She couldn't look Lance in the eye while she spoke. Arthur's image loomed in her mind again and she stood back from Lance, creating a distance between them. She didn't have to look at Lance to sense his disappointment, she could feel it radiating from him.

Lance shook his head. "You've got nothing to be sorry for Gwen, but I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong, what's _really_ wrong," he said with emphasis, "so tell me honestly, what happened yesterday after I left your house?"

For a moment Guinevere was going to repeat what she'd said earlier, that nothing happened and everything was fine, but she knew it was pointless now. Moving, she sat back down on the park bench. Lance joined her a moment later. She noticed the small distance he maintained between them and felt relieved. Staring off into the distance again, her eyes still drawn to the young couple under the oak tree, she sighed heavily and ignored a voice in her head that reminded her Arthur wouldn't like her to confide their private business with anyone. "We had a row," she said simply, her eyes filling with tears again. "We had a really bad row, we both said things, I had a go at him for being away so much and leaving me with the children, but he..he accused me of..."

"What, what did he say to you?" Lance demanded urgently, watching as the tears flowed down Guinevere's face again.

"He...he saw us in the garden when he got back. Arthur's always had a jealous streak, but I've never seen him like that before. He was furious, he...he accused me of having an affair." Guinevere's tears flowed down her face as she spoke. She tried to gather herself, but the tears wouldn't stop. "We argued and yelled at each other for ages," she recalled, trying to wipe at her tears with the back of her hand. "When the children had finished watching their DVD they came back out to us. Later, when I was putting the children to bed, Llacheu told me they'd heard us shouting at each other and Amhar….Amhar was scared by it." Guinevere sobbed now, her thoughts turning to her children when they heard her arguing with their father.

"Where is Arthur now?" Lance asked, a frown darkening his features.

Guinevere shook her head. "I've got no idea. The children wanted us to watch another DVD with them, but Arthur wouldn't even look at me and it was obvious he didn't want anything to do with me, so I made an excuse for him. He went along with it to Llacheu. He said he had something to do for one of our friends. For a while I thought he might come back later, but by the time I was going to bed, he still wasn't back, so I knew he was gone again and now I have no idea where he could be."

Lance's frown deepened. "Are you worried about him, because if you are, it doesn't sound to me like he deserves it, not after treating you like..."

"You don't know him," Guinevere cut Lance off abruptly, shaking her head. "Arthur isn't himself. He used to have time for me, and for the children, but for the last year or so, all he thinks about is work and I don't know why. It's like he's become someone else, it's like he's scared of something, but he won't talk to me. He's always jumped in to things, always been a bit arrogant, but deep down, I've always known, the children and I always came first for him. He loves us, I know he does Lance, so when he saw us together...What if he does something to himself?" Guinevere voiced the fear she'd been trying to bury inside her since Arthur left again the previous evening. "What if he does something to himself and it's my fault?"

Lance shook his head vehemently. "Look," he spoke firmly, turning on the bench slightly to look Guinevere in the eye. She tried to avoid his gaze, but he refused to back down and faced her. "You're right, of course, I don't know your husband, but I know you by now, and if he thinks you're capable of doing anything dishonest, he's crazy, and if he does something to himself it won't be your fault, it'll be down to him."

"Yes, but..." Guinevere tried, shaking her head.

Lance shook his head firmly. "I mean it Gwen," he said decisively, still looking her in the eye. "If your husband can't see what he's lucky enough to have, even when he treats you so badly, he's a bloody fool. I'm telling you Gwen, I'd change places with him in a second and I wouldn't be away all the time, and I wouldn't go around making stupid accusations, even if I had a jealous streak a mile long. Your husband should know you better than that."

For a split second Guinevere wondered what Lance was saying to her. Was he saying he had feelings for her and would step into Arthur's shoes? She dismissed the thought, knowing in her heart that wasn't what she wanted. All she wanted was Arthur the way he used to be, and the life they'd built together with Llacheu and Amhar. The thought made her think of the new baby and what would happen if Arthur didn't come back and she ended up raising three children alone.

"What is it?" Lance asked, noticing the expression on Guinevere's face. "If you're still worried about your husband, I'm sure he'll be all right."

Though she was still worried about Arthur, Guinevere shook her head. "It's not Arthur, I was just thinking about something I was going to tell him last night, but then we argued and I kept it from him because I was angry with him, was that wrong of me, do you think?"

Lance shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my place to judge you," he said simply, not offering an opinion either way.

Taking a deep breath and appreciating Lance's lack of condemnation of her actions, Guinevere spoke again. "I'm pregnant," she said quickly, before she could change her mind about saying anything.

Lance's eyes widened for a moment and he swallowed audibly in surprise. "Congratulations," he said, as if on auto-pilot. "Are you pleased?"

Guinevere heaved a sigh and shrugged. "I don't know how to feel. When I became pregnant with our first child, Gwydre, it was exciting. All I'd ever wanted was a family, but then we lost him and it was agonising. When we found out we were expecting Llacheu it was terrifying, we were so afraid of losing him. Then Amhar came along and we were scared again, but we were hopeful too, because Llacheu was so doing so well, we allowed ourselves to think it would be all right if we took the precautions people are advised to take, but now I don't know how to feel. I don't even know if Arthur wants another baby."

"What do you want?" Lance asked simply, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

Guinevere shrugged again. "I honestly don't know, to be honest it doesn't seem real."

Lance nodded sympathetically. "So, you planned to tell Arthur when you saw him again?"

Guinevere nodded. "I had no idea when he would be home, he hadn't called or anything while he was away, but I planned on telling him when he came home. I had no idea what he would think, but I did plan on telling him. Then we argued and I suppose, just for a moment, I wanted to hurt him as much as he'd hurt me, so I told him I'd had something to tell him, but I wouldn't tell him what it was. I thought, if I told him, he might be pleased and things might have gone back to the way we were before, when he was around and made time for me and the children, but I didn't want him on those terms. If Arthur comes back, I want it to be because he wants to be with me and the children, do you understand?"

"Of course, I think most people would feel like that," Lance said warmly. "I think you've made a very brave choice, some people would have said something to keep the peace." Lance's admiration was clear in his voice.

"I couldn't do that," Guinevere sighed sadly. "Arthur and I have been through too much to end up being together out of some sense of duty, so if he comes back, I want it to be because he chooses to be with me and our children."

Lance nodded solemnly. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Guinevere shrugged and shook her head. "I have no idea. There's no point in trying to phone Arthur, he probably won't answer my calls, and even if he did, I don't want to discuss our future over the phone, it wouldn't be right, so I suppose I'll have to wait until he comes home. If he'll talk to me we might have a chance of working things out between us, but if he won't…." Her voice faded as she left the thought hanging in the air.

A while later Guinevere dropped Lance off at his car and left him for the day and then she went to Uther's to pick up Llacheu and Amhar. Noticing how tired Guinevere looked when he let her in, Uther made her a cup of tea and told her to sit down for a while before she left with the children. He said the children were playing in his garden and would be fine if she had a break for a while.

While she sipped her tea, sitting at the big table in Uther's spacious kitchen, Guinevere told her father in law about Arthur turning up at home and finding her with Lance. She also admitted taking walks with Lance and having coffee with him.

"I didn't tell you about Lance before, I wasn't sure you would understand," she admitted to her father in law, feeling awkward and embarrassed.

Uther gifted Guinevere with a sad smile. "Well I haven't always given you the respect you are due my dear, but am I really such an ogre?"

Guinevere shook her head quickly. "No, of course you're not, it was just me being silly. I should have told you about Lance, I should have shown more faith in you, I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with remorse, which Uther dismissed by reaching over and taking one of her hands in his, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

Uther smiled again before his face fell. "Actually, Amhar told me you'd had a fight with Arthur. She said she'd heard you both shouting at each other."

Guinevere sighed heavily. "I never even thought about the children overhearing us, but when Llacheu told me Amhar had heard us and she'd been scared….I..."

Uther nodded and squeezed Guinevere's hand sympathetically. "Now look, you were angry with Arthur, it's entirely understandable given his behaviour towards you. For the record, if Arthur thinks you were angry, he should wait until he hears from me when he's home again."

The sharpness of Uther's tone stunned Guinevere. She was astonished by how vehement he was in standing up for her against his own son, but then guilt caught up with her and she shook her head. "I don't want you to fall out with Arthur over me, please don't let that happen. I'd feel awful if I came between you."

Uther heaved a sigh and shook his head. "You won't come between us my dear, but I won't stand for Arthur doing to you what I did to Igraine, not any longer. When he comes home you can tell him from me, I want to see him, and I will have words with him, whether he likes it or not. I won't stand back and let him destroy everything he has because he's insecure, especially because his insecurity is ultimately my fault."

Guinevere rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "I've told you before, you need to stop blaming yourself for the past, it's over and done with now and you should move on."

Uther sipped at his own cup of tea thoughtfully and then found his voice again. "The thing is my dear, it isn't over, is it? Arthur is ultimately what I made him. He has become like me before I came to my senses. He's wrapped himself up in work to shield himself from the realities of life, that much is obvious. Well, I will not allow Arthur to destroy everything he's worked for, including his life with you, because he's too frightened to face up to whatever it is that is bothering him. I will also not allow him to blame his failings on you just because of his jealousy. Arthur needs to sort himself out now and if I have to be the one to tell him, believe me, I will."

Days went by, time when the pain Guinevere was experiencing only worsened. She couldn't understand it. If she'd pulled a muscle, surely it would have started to get better by now, she reasoned, dragging herself out of bed to go to work one morning, around about the time when she was certain she'd reached her eighth week of pregnancy. But as the days went by, the pain in her left side had become sharper, along with the pains in her lower back and abdomen. Doing anything was becoming more and more of an effort and resting was becoming more difficult because even lying in bed at night was uncomfortable. Now she was also experiencing pain in a different place, where her shoulder and her arm met. It was an odd sort of discomfort, she told herself, as if the muscle needed to pop.

Guinevere's state was beginning to impact on the children. Llacheu treated Guinevere like a piece of fragile glass. He kept asking if she was all right and, in his innocent way, offered to help her more around the house if it would make her feel better. Amhar became clingy with her mother. Some days it took all of Guinevere's energy and patience to persuade Amhar to go to pre-school.

"I want to stay at home with you," Amhar said grumpily, over breakfast one morning. "I don't like pre-school, I want to stay with you." It was the third day in a row she'd started the day in the same mood.

Guinevere was feeling nauseous. She really didn't have the energy to deal with Amhar having a tantrum, so, taking a breath, she willed herself into staying calm and not becoming frustrated and fuelling the situation. "You can't stay at home darling," she said, as gently as she could. "I have to go to work, and you do like pre-school, you're always telling me how much you like learning your letters and numbers. You like listening to your teacher reading the stories at the end of the day, don't you? You like painting and drawing too."

"But I don't want to go Mummy, please." Amhar's bottom lip wobbled ominously as she whined.

Gritting her teeth to defy her pain, Guinevere moved to Amhar's side at the kitchen table and knelt on the hard floor by her chair. Pain shot through her back and abdomen, but she willed herself into ignoring it. "Tell you what," she forced a smile to her lips, deciding bribery would work. It wasn't something she did often, offering her children something in return for their good behaviour, but if it got Amhar to pre-school, it would be worth it, she told herself. "You go to pre-school, and then, when I come and pick you up from Grandpa's later, why don't we go and see Auntie Mithian and Galahad for a while, and then, if you like, we could go and see Uncle Gwaine and Uncle Leon for dinner at the restaurant, how about that?"

Amhar's eyes widened in surprise. "We could go and see Galahad, at his house?"

Guinevere nodded and smiled wider. "We could go and see Galahad and Auntie Mithian. We haven't seen them for a little while, have we? We could go and see how Auntie Mithian is preparing for her new baby too. If you're good, Auntie Mithian might let you see the new clothes she's got for the new baby when it comes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Amhar's face lit up, her mood changing at the thought of a special treat. When it was time to go to pre-school she trotted at Guinevere's side happily. At the entrance to the pre-school she reminded her mother that she'd promised they would go and see Galahad and Auntie Mithian later, before hugging her mother tightly and then going off into the building.

Dropping off Llacheu at school. Guinevere hugged her son to her for a moment. The pain she was in had worsened. She felt sick and a little dizzy, but she willed it away, desperate to avoid worrying her son.

"You will be all right, won't you Mum?" Llacheu's eyes scanned every detail of his mother's face carefully. "You look poorly."

Guinevere swallowed hard. Llacheu didn't miss a thing, he never had. "I'll be fine, don't you worry about me." She dragged a bright smile to her face. "Now, you get off into school young man," she hugged him tightly again. "The bell will be going in a minute and we can't have you being late, can we? That would never do."

Llacheu hugged his mother back and then released her slowly, as if he thought she might break. "I really love you Mum, I'll see you later."

Guinevere watched her son walk away and felt a strange urge to go after him and hold him again. She'd felt it with Amhar too, when she'd watched her walk into pre-school. It was odd, she thought. She'd never felt strange about leaving the children at school before, apart from their first days at pre-school and school. Then she'd felt emotional to think her babies were growing up and spreading their wings. Now, watching Llacheu walk away from her, Guinevere was gripped by a strange sense of foreboding, as if, somehow, she was never going to see him again. When Llacheu disappeared from view, Guinevere dismissed her thoughts as silly and set off for home so that she could get ready for work. Every instinct she had wanted to go home and curl up for a rest, but it couldn't be done. She had work to do, she told herself firmly.

By the time Guinevere reached the first care call of her day, she felt much worse. Her back and abdomen seemed to be in continuous pain, so much so, that when she got out of her car, she could barely put one foot in front of the other.

As soon as he saw her car pull up outside their first call, Lance came over and opened her car door. "Gwen, you look terrible," he greeted her, his eyes widening in alarm. He took in her pale skin and the light sheen of sweat on her skin and anxiety crept through him. Something was very wrong.

"Thanks," Guinevere said, forcing a wan smile to her lips as she climbed out of her car. She was in agony and grimaced when a particularly sharp pain gripped her. Acting instinctively, she reached for Lance and gripped his hand as everything around her spun for a second.

"Gwen, honestly, I don't think you should be working." Lance practically propped Guinevere up as she struggled to walk into the house where they were supposed to be doing their first call of the day.

"I'll be all right in a minute," Guinevere said, between gritted teeth. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"You are definitely not fine," Lance said, his worry for Guinevere increasing. She looked very unwell. Her skin had taken on a sickly pallor and as she walked, leaning on him heavily, she seemed to be trembling slightly.

Walking inside the small house where their first client lived, Lance walked Guinevere into the kitchen and guided her towards a chair. "Now, you sit down for a bit," he said, speaking softly. "Alice is still in bed, but I can manage her this morning. You sit there for a bit and catch your breath, your breathing doesn't sound quite right to me." It was true, he thought. It was as if Gwen couldn't take a full breath in. There was a slight rasp to her breathing, as if every breath she took was an effort.

"I'll be all right in a minute," Guinevere suddenly seemed less aware than she was. Lance had the distinct feeling she couldn't see him clearly. When she spoke her voice seemed far away, like she was half asleep, but her eyes were still wide open.

Lance had no idea what to do. Part of him didn't want to leave Guinevere on her own to attend to Alice, the client who was upstairs, but he was also aware he was there to do a job and Alice needed him.

"Look Gwen, I'll see to Alice quickly and then we'll see how you are, all right?" Lance asked, speaking clearly so that Guinevere would understand him.

"I'll be fine," Guinevere said, leaving Lance uncertain of whether she'd heard him or not.

Lance went up the stairs quickly. A short time later he had Alice washed and dressed and she was eating a light breakfast at the kitchen table, sitting opposite Guinevere, who seemed to be shades paler now.

"You don't look well dear," Alice said to Guinevere, between chewing on a piece of toast Lance had prepared for her. "You should see a doctor or something, you shouldn't be working, not in that state."

Lance turned a smile on to Alice, "Listen sweetheart," he said, keeping his his tone light. "Gwen and I will be off now, if you don't need anything else. I think Gwen would be better off at home, don't you?"

Alice nodded, still chewing her toast. "I'll be fine," she said, finishing her toast and turning her attention to a cup of tea Lance had made for her. "You get yourselves off. I hope you feel better soon dear," she addressed Guinevere, who made no response.

Helping Guinevere back to her feet, Lance guided her out of the small kitchen and into the hallway towards the front door. Without thinking, he guided her towards her car, until the thought went through his mind that she wouldn't be able to drive in the state she was in. Making sure her car was secure, he turned her towards his own car. He was struck by how much more she was leaning on him as she walked.

"Lance?" Just as Lance released Guinevere to unlock his car, she said his name, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"I'm here, you're all right," he said softly, trying to reassure her. "I'm going to take you home Gwen," he said, trying to control his anxiety over the state Guinevere was in. She seemed worse now than when she arrived at Alice's. "I'll take you home and then maybe you will be able to give me the details of your doctor, okay? I think you need to see someone."

"I feel a bit sick," Guinevere said, her voice still quiet. She leaned heavily on Lance's car when he let her go to unlock the vehicle. When he turned back to her, now his car was unlocked and the front passenger door was open, she was holding her mobile phone in her hand, holding it towards him. "Will you ring Arthur for me?" she asked him. There was a plea in her voice he couldn't miss and his heart went out to her. "I don't feel very well and I think I need Arthur to…."

Suddenly Guinevere's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she seemed to be falling backwards, away from the car in front of her. Lance dashed to catch her before she could fall and hit the pavement behind her. He just managed to catch her in his arms, finding her limp and lifeless.

"Gwen!" Lance called out, shouting to try to get some response from her. "Gwen!"

Finding no reaction from Guinevere, Lance took her weight in his arms. Picking her up, he carried her back up the path to Alice's house. Releasing Gwen's legs for a moment, he banged on the front door. Guinevere was still unresponsive.

After a moment, Alice came to her front door and opened it. "Where's the fire?" she asked, looking startled.

Almost shoving Alice aside, Lance went into the house with Guinevere in his arms. "I'm sorry Alice," he panted under the effort of supporting Guinevere's lifeless weight. "I need to put Gwen down in your living room. She needs an ambulance, she's fainted."

A look of fright crossed Alice's old face, but Lance ignored her, all his attention on Guinevere. He carried her through to Alice's living room and knelt to put her down on the worn carpet, turning her onto her side. He made sure her breathing was unobstructed and opened the top button on her uniform. Then he picked up his mobile phone out of the pocket of his trousers and pressed the nine three times.

When Lance had given the operator all the information about Guinevere he could, he gave her Alice's address. When he knew an ambulance was on the way, he hung up. Guinevere's phone was somehow still clutched in her hand. Lance noticed the way her contacts were open and one name was in view, Arthur. Taking the phone carefully out of her hand, Lance pressed the call button and waited.

A moment later there was a voice on the other end of the line. "Guinevere?" The male voice on the end of the phone sounded shattered. Something made Lance wonder when Arthur had last slept properly. He pushed the thought aside and thought of Guinevere, who was still on the floor in front of him, clearly unconscious.

"Arthur, I know you don't know me, and I'm sure I'm the last person you want to speak to, but it's Lance, Gwen's friend." Lance tried to get straight to the point.

"What are you doing with my wife's phone?" Arthur demanded furiously. "Where is she? Put her on right now!" Arthur's voice rose.

"Listen, Arthur," Lance ignored Arthur's anger. "Don't hang up or anything, because Gwen needs you. She's not well, she's unconscious. I'm waiting for an ambulance, she's very ill."

"What have you done to her?" Arthur demanded. "I swear to God, if you've done something to her, if you've harmed a hair on her head, so help me, I'll…."

A string of threats followed, which Lance forced himself to ignore. "Damn it man, will you listen!" He cut off Arthur's tirade. "Gwen needs you to come home right now, so just get in your car and get home to your wife, right now Arthur, I mean it!" Lance could hear the sound of a siren in the distance and getting closer by the second. He looked out of the bay window on the living room at the front of the house and saw an ambulance parked outside. "I need to go, the ambulance is here. Get home now, Arthur!"

Lance hung up the call before Arthur could say another word. Checking on Guinevere again and finding her beginning to stir into consciousness, he took a second to listen to her groan with pain, feeling strangely relieved that she was making some noise, even if it was a noise of discomfort. While he watched, her face scrunched up. She was obviously still in a lot of pain. When he thought he could leave her for a moment, he got to his feet and went out to the ambulance.

Within a moment two paramedics were wheeling a long stretcher into the confined space of Alice's small home. Lance tried to keep out of their way, settling for answering their questions as well as he could. He told them Guinevere's name and explained how she had been in pain for about a week, but she thought she'd pulled a muscle. He told them where her pain was, to the best of his knowledge, and then he explained how tired she seemed and how pale and yet sweaty she was earlier. Then he had a thought. "I don't know if it's relevant," he said, feeling like he was betraying Gwen's confidence, but knowing it might help her somehow. "Gwen told me a few days ago, she's pregnant."

A knowing look seemed to pass between the two paramedics as they examined Guinevere and prepared her to be taken to hospital. They were both dressed in dark green, short sleeved shirts and dark green trousers. One of the men looked middle-aged, balding and stocky, whilst the other was tall and skinny, with blonde hair with a fringe that seemed to be getting in his eyes. Lance looked at the blonde paramedic and was tempted to ask if he knew what he was doing, but he swallowed the words. Now wasn't the time.

Soon the paramedics had Guinevere on the stretcher and were wheeling her out of Alice's house. They'd covered her with a dark red knitted blanket, until only her head could be seen.

Taking a moment to reassure Alice, who had followed him to the front door, Lance followed the paramedics.

"You won't be able to come with us Sir," the older paramedic said, while he assisted his colleague to put Guinevere into the ambulance. She was still groaning, but her eyes were still closed. "There isn't room, but you could follow us though, if you like? We'll be taking her to the General Hospital, it's the closest from here."

Lance nodded and then watched as one of the paramedics closed the ambulance doors and Guinevere disappeared from view. Jumping into his car, Lance started the engine. He wondered what was going on for a moment when the ambulance didn't move immediately. He waited for what felt like an age, his heart racing. Was something wrong? Was Gwen worse? Just as he was becoming tempted to get out of his car and bang on the ambulance doors to find out what was going on, a siren began to wail and the ambulance pulled away quickly. Putting his foot down on his accelerator, Lance followed.


	11. Chapter 11

**My thanks, as always, to those of you who left reviews for my previous chapter. Your enthusiasm for the story encourages me so much and I am very grateful for your continued support.**

 **So, I left the previous chapter at a dramatic moment. I hope it didn't come across as too clich** **é** **. I feel a little bit bad about being so horrible to Gwen all through the story, but I hope you will think it's worth it. I have researched the problem Gwen is now suffering from as carefully as I can and I hope it is as realistic as I can make it, although I must say I have played some of the symptoms she might experience down a little, so as not to be too graphic and also because some people do not experience all of the symptoms her problem can cause. You will find out exactly what is going on with her in this chapter, so I hope you will stick with me for that. In this chapter you also find out what Arthur's problem is, so read, enjoy and please, drop me a review. Finally, I should point out that the hospital Guinevere is in, which I also refer to in Six Weeks To Midnight, is entirely fictitious, although it is very broadly based on the local hospital in my own area, which is not Winchester.**

After spending the night in his car in the depths of the Hampshire countryside, Arthur spent days on the road. The only thing he had with him in the car was the black holdall he'd packed before leaving for Manchester, which contained a clean shirt, a tie and a pair of trousers for work, and some casual clothes, a couple of t-shirts and a pair of jeans. With some underwear, he had everything he needed in the bag for a few days, but with every day that went by, the feeling began to grow inside him that staying away wasn't the answer to the mess he was in, but then the image of Guinevere and that man looking so cosy together would come to the forefront of his mind again and he would move on.

Almost as soon as he'd stormed out of the Rising Sun after arguing with Gwaine, Arthur began to question himself. How could his life come to this, he asked himself, over and over again. He'd been happy with Guinevere. They'd worked so hard to put themselves back together after losing Gwydre and they'd built a new life with Llacheu and Amhar. Guinevere had a job she enjoyed and he'd taken Pendragon Homes to new heights when he'd taken over the company when his father retired, so where had everything gone so wrong? The answer loomed before Arthur in the shape of the private developments he was building across the country.

When Arthur had taken Pendragon Homes into construction, he'd intended it to be an interesting side-line, a few affordable houses that would give him another string to his bow and enable him to begin to give Guinevere the life she deserved, especially because Llacheu was on the way and they were starting again after losing Gwydre. Looking back, Arthur admitted to himself, he'd also gone into construction to prove something to his father, to show he could do something his father had wanted to do, but had never got round to.

Those first few houses had led to more. Arthur had received offers from local authorities all over the country for plots of affordable housing. Having made provision to expand, Arthur accepted the work, his eyes and mind drawn to the possibilities it would create for his family. What he hadn't prepared for was how much the work would take him away from home, and how reluctant local authorities would be to pay for work they had contracted out, given that the struggling economy was leading to them cutting the services they provided, which hadn't been the case when the local council had paid him handsomely for those first homes he built in Winchester. It led to Arthur spending half of his time overseeing building work, often leading to him travelling from one construction site to another, usually miles apart, whilst spending the rest of his time chasing up local councils to pay for work he'd completed. All too soon it meant he was spending less and less time at home, and much less time running Pendragon Homes' estate agencies.

When Arthur accepted the chance to go into private housing, to build private estates of large houses and exclusive flats in affluent areas, he thought the problems he was having with the local authorities would be eased. He thought long and hard about working in this new area. Was he experienced enough, did he really know what he was doing? He asked himself every question he could think of, thinking of everything that might go wrong, but in the end he had taken the chance, seeing the possibilities building such developments would provide for his family. He'd be able to send the children to private schools eventually, he told himself. He could give Guinevere all the things he'd ever wanted to give her, new clothes, expensive jewellery, the exotic holidays they'd enjoyed when they were first married, but hadn't been able to have since the children came along. He'd even come up with a plan for attempting to talk Guinevere into letting him buy her a new car, so that she could get rid of the old mini she'd driven for years, despite the money she'd insisted on paying out of her earnings from the care agency to put rear seatbelts in the mini when Llacheu started pre-school.

When Arthur was considering his options in deciding whether or not to go into private housing, he really thought he'd considered every possibility, every contingency. Had he been short-sighted? Had he put too much emphasis on the end result, the things he could give Guinevere and the children, without thinking of how he was going to reach the end goal? The answer stared him in the face now, cold and stark, but at the time, buoyed by the success of the first few properties he'd built in Winchester, and the growing number of local authorities across the country offering him work, which, admittedly, they were always reluctant to pay market value for, Arthur really believed he could do it and so he threw caution to the wind, bolstered by Guinevere's encouragement.

What Arthur hadn't been able to find the words to admit to Guinevere was that the private housing developments wouldn't provide him with any real sort of financial gain until the work was completed. When the work was done, he would have money to burn, but until then he would earn next to nothing from the developments. He had also kept the local authorities reluctance to pay for the work he'd completed for them, from his wife. He'd told himself she would worry and he wanted to spare her the stress he was beginning to feel, so he kept it from her and tried to spend as much time as possible on the developments, because the sooner they were built, the sooner he would be paid, and Guinevere would never need to know there had ever been a problem.

The private developments didn't go smoothly. A week didn't go by without Arthur having to oversee some sort of crisis. Having decided not to take on site managers to oversee the private developments because he thought he had the experience to cope and know what he was doing, a stark contrast to those first few properties he built, when the site manager oversaw the day to day work and just kept him informed of how things were going when he went to check on the site, or by phone if he was too busy at Pendragon Homes to get away, Arthur had to increase the travelling he was doing again, cutting the hours he could spend at the office in Winchester, which led to him worrying about the business in his long absences and made him become controlling and paranoid with Percival, who ran the main office like clockwork, to the point where Arthur was checking and rechecking every decision Percival made in his absence, which created an atmosphere of distrust between him and the man he would have once consulted for every business decision he made. It also led to him spending even less time with Guinevere and the children, especially when he made the decision to stay in hotels and bed and breakfast's to cut down the number of times he was disturbing them when he arrived home from travelling late at night. Arthur had told himself he was doing the right thing when he decided to stay away overnight instead of disturbing his family by going home late, but deep down he knew the truth. If he stayed away it would give him less time with Guinevere, less time for her to question what was wrong with him, why he was being so distant and moody, and why, all of a sudden, he didn't have the energy, or, it seemed, even the ability, to show his wife how much he loved her.

The stress Arthur was feeling began to mount when the bank started to become concerned about the mortgage for the house. By this time, a while after he'd gone into the private developments, he was spending virtually no time in the office, and the various local authorities around the country were still dragging their feet about paying for the properties he had built for them. The money from those first properties in Winchester was also beginning to run out, draining away rapidly due to the size of the mortgage on the house they'd bought before Llacheu was born.

Arthur responded to the stress he was feeling by withdrawing into himself. He couldn't bring himself to approach the bank and admit he was struggling. He wouldn't consider discussing the issue with his father, knowing that if he couldn't keep a roof over his own family's heads, no one would trust him to sell them a home, so Pendragon Homes would be in serious trouble, which could lead to him having to put dozens of his employees out of work and close down the business his father had built from nothing. Worse, he couldn't face Guinevere and tell her he had failed her so spectacularly and put everything they'd built together at risk, so he distanced himself from her and the children even further and set about trying to get out of the mess he'd created, a mess Guinevere didn't even know existed.

Having driven aimlessly from one place to another for days, Arthur went back to work in an attempt to bury everything bottled up inside him. He'd spent the last few nights in a bed and breakfast, tossing and turning while images of Guinevere with that man continued to taunt him. He was working in Warwickshire, two hours from Winchester, when he received the call. He was overseeing the latest work on the properties he was building there when his mobile phone rang. He half expected it to stop ringing if he ignored it and carried on talking to one of the workmen on the site, but when it didn't stop, something in his head told him to answer the call. He grabbed at the phone from his belt, his stomach twisting into knots and his heart racing when Guinevere's number and name flashed on his caller display. The builder he'd just been talking to about some detail on the blueprints for the development, gave him a knowing look, nodded and made himself scarce.

Arthur pressed the button to answer the call on his phone. His heart was hammering in his ears. "Guinevere?" He sounded exhausted, even to his own ears. He wondered if she would notice or even care.

A voice Arthur didn't expect came over the line. "Arthur, I know you don't know me, and I'm sure I'm the last person you want to speak to, but it's Lance, Gwen's friend."

Anger shot through Arthur and it was all he could do not to put the phone down. Where was Guinevere? He asked himself the question, images of her with the man on the end of the phone coming to mind again, tormenting him. "What are you doing with my wife's phone?" Arthur demanded, almost shaking with fury. "Where is she? Put her on right now!" By now he was shouting, oblivious to the looks and raised eyebrows he was getting from the workmen around him.

"Listen, Arthur," The man on the other end of the line spoke quickly. "Don't hang up or anything, because Gwen needs you. She's not well, she's unconscious. I'm waiting for an ambulance, she's very ill."

For one split second Arthur didn't believe the man on the end of the phone line and his finger hovered over the button to end the call, but suddenly it was as if an ice cold hand had gripped his insides and squeezed. For reasons he couldn't even explain to himself, he was suddenly afraid. "What have you done to her?" Arthur's fear made him lash out at the man on the end of the line. "I swear to God, if you've done something to her, if you've harmed a hair on her head, so help me, I'll…." He issued a string of threats and language he had rarely used to anyone before. In that moment he didn't care. All he could think about was Guinevere.

"Damn it man, will you listen!" The man on the end of the phone line raised his voice urgently, almost shouting down the line. "Gwen needs you to come home right now, so just get in your car and get home to your wife, right now Arthur, I mean it!" Arthur suddenly heard the noise of a siren from somewhere in the distance. It took him a second to realise it was coming from the phone and his heart seemed to turn over in his chest, but he couldn't make his thoughts come together enough to speak again. "I need to go, the ambulance is here. Get home now, Arthur!" The other man spoke again and then, before Arthur could get his thoughts together, the phone line went dead.

Arthur stood holding his mobile phone to his ear long after the call ended. He felt numb, frozen, as if someone had pressed pause on his life and left him stuck in one position forever.

"You all right, boss?" A voice to his left startled Arthur, dragging him out of his stunned stupor, and his head jerked around sharply, his eyes staring in bewilderment at a large man wearing low hanging jeans and a tatty t-shirt beneath a high visibility jacket. The man was wearing a white hard hat on his head, which he pushed up towards his forehead to look Arthur straight in the eye. "Boss?" The builder spoke again, fixing Arthur with a confused frown.

Arthur suddenly snapped out of his daze. Yanking at the high visibility jacket and hard hat he'd put on when he arrived on the building site earlier, he threw them down on the ground.

"Hey, where are you going?" the builder who'd just startled Arthur demanded urgently, when Arthur went to run towards his car. "You can't go yet, there are things you need to see, decisions you need to make."

Exasperated, Arthur glared at the big man. He inhaled sharply and tried to calm down before he could speak. "Look," he looked into the other man's eyes and gestured with a hand to the building site around him. "Let's be honest, you probably know more about all this," he indicated the site again, "than I will ever know, so prove it. Make a list of all the things that need doing and do them, or find someone who can do them. I trust your judgement and I give you a free hand, now I need to go."

"But…?" The other man said, his eyes reflecting his disbelief.

"I mean it," Arthur said, beginning to walk towards his car, the builder following in his wake. "I'm appointing you site manager, so manage. I've had my priorities all messed up for months, but now I haven't. I have a wife who needs me, so I'm going." With that, Arthur walked away from the builder, who stood in stunned disbelief, shaking his head, until a shout from the building site behind him made him turn and go back to work.

Arthur almost ran across the building site to his car. As soon as it came into sight he pulled his keys from the pocket of his jacket and pressed a button on his car key. His headlights flashed once and a beep alerted him to the car being unlocked. Reaching the car at last, panting as he tried to catch his breath, Arthur opened the door on the drivers side and jumped in. He barely gave himself time to start the car and pull his seatbelt across his body before starting the engine and driving away.

Back in Winchester, Lance followed the ambulance through the city. He stayed as close to the vehicle in front of him as he could, determined not to lose sight of it for a moment. He swore vociferously when another driver pulled out of a junction and tried to cut in front of him, trying to take advantage of the way the emergency vehicle was able to manoeuvre through the city traffic so easily with its siren blaring. Beeping his horn as he slammed on his brakes, Lance held his ground and fixed the impertinent driver with a deathly glare. The other driver backed down sheepishly and indicated with his head for Lance to go ahead. Putting his foot on his accelerator, Lance quickly caught up with the ambulance and heaved a sigh of relief.

When the city traffic began to ebb away, Lance knew the hospital must be close by. Continuing to follow the ambulance closely, he spotted a road sign indicating the hospital. His heart pounded, torn between feeling glad that the hospital was so close, and wondering what he would see when the ambulance doors opened. Why had it taken so long for the ambulance to move outside Alice's house? he asked himself again. How bad was Gwen really, and what was wrong with her? All he knew was that she had obviously been in a lot of pain and she'd looked very ill when he saw her last. Now fear of the unknown gripped him. Would Arthur come home? Lance had no idea, but it was clear that Arthur was stunned when he told him how ill Gwen was. Perhaps the shock might do him good, he thought, knowing even in his head, he sounded bitter.

Soon the ambulance began to slow down. It indicated to the left and Lance followed, risking leaving a wider space between his car and the ambulance now, knowing they would need room to get Gwen out of the back. The ambulance turned into a short roadway and then into a busy car park, where people in uniforms in various shades of blue went in and out of a large building that looked like an airport terminal. They were followed by other people, some carrying flowers and fruit, or other things that appeared to be gifts for people inside the building The hospital, Lance heaved another relieved sigh.

All of a sudden Lance realised he wouldn't be able to park in the ambulance bay outside the hospital, when the ambulance finally came to a halt and the siren was silent at last. He looked around the car park for an empty space, his heart lifting when he spotted a big car pulling away. Turning his car into the space the other car had just left, Lance stopped his car and jumped out. Locking up quickly, Lance's eyes turned to the ambulance bay and the paramedics, who were now opening the back of the ambulance. Glancing around quickly to make sure no vehicles were coming towards him, Lance ran across the car park and reached the ambulance as fast as he could. He was almost holding his breath when one of the paramedics climbed into the back of the ambulance and began to push Gwen's stretcher forward, down the short ramp which came out from beneath the vehicle's floor. The other paramedic assisted his colleague and guided the stretcher to the ground safely. Gathering his courage, Lance looked at Guinevere for the first time since she was put into the ambulance. He was startled by how pale she was. She lay with her eyes closed, her skin a sickly shade of white, contrasting sharply with her dark hair, which pooled around her on a pillow beneath her head. He tried to stay out of the paramedics way when they began to push Guinevere's stretcher into the Accident and Emergency department, but he couldn't help edging closer when he thought he heard her trying to speak, though her eyes remained closed.

"You're all right, Gwen," Lance said softly, stepping up to Guinevere's side and taking her hand. She was mumbling incoherently, but Lance was sure he heard one thing clearly, a name. 'Arthur.'

Lance swallowed hard and gripped Guinevere's hand tighter. "He's coming Gwen," he tried to sound positive for her. "I phoned Arthur and he's coming, so you just hold on, all right? Arthur's coming Gwen, I promise." He silently prayed it was true.

When they finally got through the entrance to the Accident and Emergency department, chaos seemed to break out around Lance. He found himself pushed from Guinevere's side when doctors and nurses appeared from nowhere. He heard one of the paramedics giving a man with wiry grey hair and half-moon spectacles, wearing a long white coat, a series of details. He heard words like 'pregnant' and 'collapsed', along with alarming words like 'blood pressure crashed in the ambulance' and 'suspected internal bleeding.' He struggled to take in what they were saying and went to follow them through a pair of thin light-wood doors with frosted glass panels in the top and bottom, but found his progress halted when a hand stilled him. He blinked and found a nurse with hazel eyes, auburn hair and a kind expression, looking up at him. "I'm sorry sir," she said, shaking her head gently. "You can't go in there, that's for staff only."

"But she's on her own," Lance's voice seemed to strangle as he spoke and he cleared his throat. "I can't leave her on her own."

"Is she your wife, or your girlfriend?" The nurse eyed him sympathetically.

Lance shook his head. "No, she's a friend from work, her husband is away working. She asked me to phone him before she collapsed. He's on his way...I _think_ he's on his way."

The nurse nodded and steered Lance towards a block of brown plastic chairs in the middle of the bustling department, where dozens of people seemed to be rushing around. She almost guided him down into one of the chairs before she spoke again. "Well, when her husband gets here, he owes you a favour. I can't say too much, I'm not allowed to because you're not a member of her family, but let's just say, you might have just saved her life today." The nurse allowed a hint of a smile to cross her features.

Lance's brows arched in shock. "Saved her...what do you mean?" he asked, breathlessly.

The nurse's face fell. She knew immediately, she'd said too much. Looking around in case she was overheard by one of her superiors, she lowered her voice. "All I can say is, your friend is very ill, she's being prepared for emergency surgery right away, but if you hadn't responded so quickly when she collapsed…."

The nurse stopped talking and Lance filled in the rest. If Guinevere hadn't got to hospital when she did, she might have died. The thought was terrifying. "What….What's wrong with her?" He asked a moment later, when he could speak again. His mind was reeling.

The nurse gave him another sympathetic look and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to tell you, but you should know, you've given your friend every chance of making a good recovery. It'll take a while," she went on, still keeping her voice low and making sure no one was listening, "but your friend has every chance now, and that is because of you."

The nurse eventually walked away, telling Lance he could stay where he was and she would see if someone would come and tell him some news in a while. She also told him to go to the reception desk and give them Guinevere's details, which he did gladly, finding it filled up some of the time.

When Lance was finished at the reception desk, he found a sign on the wall asking people to go outside if they wanted to use their mobile phones, to avoid disturbing other people in the department. Lance really didn't want to move, but, he reminded himself, Hunith still didn't know what had happened to Gwen, and she would be getting calls by now from clients whose calls they'd missed. Getting to his feet, Lance walked out of the department and found a spot near the entrance to the hospital. He took out his phone and spoke to Hunith quickly, telling her about what had happened to Gwen and what he knew about her condition, which, he realised, was next to nothing. When Hunith asked if she needed to call Gwen's husband, Lance admitted he'd done it, because Gwen asked him to. Having given Hunith the facts, Lance switched his attention to the work he hadn't got through with Gwen that morning. Hunith immediately reassured him, telling him she would cover it, even if she had to go out herself and do some calls. Glad Hunith had dealt with this sudden change in the usual routine so smoothly, Lance said he would be happy to go and do a few of Gwen's calls a bit later, if Hunith was okay with him working unsupervised. He said he would phone in when he was ready to go back to work, and he would do some of Gwen's late afternoon calls. Thanking him heartily, Hunith ended the call, and Lance went back into the Accident and Emergency department and took a seat in the waiting area. He found his eyes drawn to the clock on the wall above the reception desk. He watched the hands tick the time away, while he waited for news of Guinevere.

While Lance waited for news at the hospital in Winchester, Arthur was on the motorway. Driving through Warwickshire had almost driven him mad. He got stuck in traffic due to the cricket season being at its height, bringing people from Warwick and its surroundings areas into the county. It was also the time of year when tourists began to flock into the country, visiting beauty spots and local sights, leading to heavy traffic, which Arthur had to sit in, whilst inside he was miles away, Guinevere at the forefront of his mind.

Arthur felt relief washing over him when he finally reached the motorway. Able to put his foot down at last, he pushed his car onwards. All the time anxiety gripped him. That man had said Guinevere was very ill. How bad was she, and what was wrong with her? The unanswered questions buzzed in Arthur's mind. She was unconscious, that man had said. Why was she unconscious? Arthur asked himself. What had happened to her, and would she be all right?

"She has to be," Arthur answered his question out loud. "She has to be all right, I need…." He stamped down on the thought, refusing to give in to the fear churning in his stomach. All the same, his heart pounded violently, while his mind turned over the questions he had no answers for.

In the confines of his car, with miles of his journey stretching before him, Arthur thought about the last year, the days and weeks he'd spent away from his family while he worked and tried to find a way out of a mess he knew was entirely of his own making. He'd been so wrapped up in his own stress, he'd pushed Guinevere away. He'd been so afraid of admitting his failure, he'd abandoned his wife and children, and now he was paying for his stupidity. What if his arrogance and selfishness cost Guinevere her life? The thought came from nowhere. What if his desire to give his wife the material things she'd never even said she wanted, cost him the most important thing, Guinevere's presence in his life and the love she showed him, even when he failed her over and over again?

Arthur's journey home seemed to take forever. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, with clear blue skies. Usually, even on the hardest days, he would try to get some pleasure out of the endless travelling he'd been doing for months, whether it was the scenery he got to see, or even the roadworks on the motorways not being quite as bad as he'd expected, but now, all he could think about was Guinevere, his mind creating darker and darker pictures of what could be wrong with her. That man, he wouldn't give him a name even in his own head, had said she was very ill. What was wrong with her?

Thinking back, the only time Arthur could remember Guinevere being really ill was after Gwydre died, when, without him even noticing because he was so wrapped up in his own grief, she detached herself from the world and had a breakdown. They'd spent months apart by then, their marriage had crumbled under the strain of their loss, and he hadn't seen Guinevere's condition coming. He thought she'd blamed him for Gwydre's death and turned her back on him, so he left her and went to stay with Gwaine and Leon, being stupid enough, he still ached with guilt to remember, to file for a divorce because he thought Guinevere no longer wanted him. He went home when her illness became obvious and she eventually recovered, but Arthur knew he would never forget those dark days when Guinevere seemed to shut the world out and needed everything done for her. Had he missed something now, he asked himself?

Eventually, after what seemed like days, the road signs in front of Arthur began to show how far away he was from Winchester. The thought simultaneously lifted him and filled him with dread. What would he see when he got to Guinevere? How bad was she? He had no idea. All Arthur knew was that whatever happened, whatever lay ahead, he needed to be with her. The thought made him press down on the accelerator harder, driving the car forward.

Half an hour later, Arthur was able to get off the motorway and drove for the centre of Winchester. His heart sped up, knowing he would soon have answers to all the questions in his head. In the distance, as he entered the city, he could see Winchester Cathedral, it's Gothic architecture standing out against the skyline, the long nave of the building, one of the longest of any cathedral in Europe, clearly visible in the sunshine of the early summer.

Just as he arrived in the city, it suddenly occurred to Arthur, he had no idea which hospital Guinevere was in. There were a few in the area she could have been taken to. Part of him wanted to call each one and ask if Guinevere had been admitted, but he knew the quickest thing to do would be to call that man and ask where Guinevere was, and as much as he didn't want to speak to that man again, he wanted to find Guinevere as quickly as possible. Pulling over into the first parking space he could find, Arthur turned off the engine and got out of the car to make the call. The last thing he needed, he thought, was to be delayed further by a policeman, determined to catch someone for using their mobile phone at the wheel, so he got out and stood in the space the open car door created. Reaching for his mobile phone, he dialled Guinevere's number and waited.

Swearing loudly when the call went unanswered the first time, Arthur tried again. "Hello, Gwen's phone, Arthur?" A breathless voice on the line finally answered.

"Where the hell were you?" Arthur snapped, his patience running low. "This is my second call, you didn't pick up the first time!"

Arthur heard a sound like someone trying to catch their breath. "Sorry," Lance spoke again. "I couldn't answer the phone in the Accident and Emergency department, I had to run outside and you rung off before I could answer."

Arthur rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'm in Winchester," he said, getting straight to the point, not wanting to talk to that man any longer than he needed to. "I just want to know where my wife is, you never said which hospital she was taken to." He told himself he couldn't help the accusation in his tone.

"She's in the General Hospital," Lance replied, his voice not giving away any sign of offence at Arthur's attitude. "But since I spoke to you, I've been told she's in theatre, she was taken down about an hour and a half ago, a nurse told me they're expecting her out of theatre soon."

Lance's voice cut through Arthur's thoughts of getting off the phone as quickly as possible. His breath caught in the back of his throat and he had to will himself to breath before he could find his voice. "Why...Why is she in theatre, what's wrong with her?" he demanded, his voice beginning to rise in panic.

"If I knew, I would tell you," Lance replied reasonably. "They won't tell me much because I'm not family, but I'm sure they'll tell you more, when you get here."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Arthur said, and then he hung up and got back into his car.

Ten minutes later, Arthur drove into the car park of the General Hospital. This place held so many memories for him and Guinevere, he remembered. It was where they found out Gwydre was gone, it was where they'd seen the scans for Llacheu and Amhar when Guinevere was pregnant again. It was where they'd become parents again when Llacheu and Amhar were born. What would it have in store for them now, he wondered, his feelings of dread increasing.

Acknowledging another driver, who was just pulling out of a parking space, Arthur reversed into the space they'd just left and parked, turning the engine off again. The silence in the car was deafening now, all Arthur could hear was his own heartbeat and he closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself for whatever was coming. Opening his eyes after a few seconds, Arthur got out of his car and ran as quickly as he could towards the building in front of him.

Arthur was just about to walk through the main entrance to the Accident and Emergency department, when a voice stopped him in his tracks. "Arthur?" He knew immediately who it was, the man whose face had tortured his attempts to sleep for days.

Lance stood in the entrance to the hospital and walked towards Arthur. He instinctively stuck his hand out, attempting to shake hands with the other man, but withdrew it when Arthur stared at it blankly. "How was your journey?" he asked awkwardly, for want of something to say.

Arthur shook his head and fixed the dark haired man in front of him with a glare. "I'm not going to indulge in small talk with you, in fact, you can go now." He went to push past the other man, who halted him by grabbing his arm.

Arthur moved to give the other man a shove out of his way, but Lance held his ground and wouldn't be moved. He fixed Arthur with a steely expression. "Look Arthur," he kept his voice even and low. "I don't know what you think is going on between me and Gwen..."

"I don't want to hear about it, just leave us alone!' Arthur began to shake with suppressed fury and went to shove Lance out of the way again.

Lance went on holding his ground, undaunted by Arthur's anger. "You've got it wrong, you've got it all wrong. That woman in there," he pointed towards the hospital, "loves you, Arthur. She's devoted to you and your children."

Arthur stopped trying to shove Lance out of the way. "I said, I don't want to…." He made another effort to cut the other man off before he could say any more, but something silenced him.

Seeing he was beginning to get Arthur's attention, Lance went on. "The fact is, I do like her, I more than like her. I haven't known her long, but the fact is, I know I could love her if she'd let me, but she won't Arthur, because she loves you, she's completely wrapped up in you and those kids, so do yourself a favour, stop being so stupid and show her the love she deserves, because if you don't, I'm telling you, you'll regret it."

As he spoke, Lance held out his hand, offering Arthur Guinevere's mobile phone. Arthur took it, holding it tightly in his hand, as if it was a precious object. "Tell Gwen not to worry about her clients, Hunith will get them covered, and tell her I'll see her when she's back on her feet." With one last penetrating look at Arthur, Lance walked away, towards the hospital car park.

Arthur stood in the entrance to the hospital for a minute, thinking about what Lance had said. Had he got it wrong when he saw Guinevere and that man together? Guinevere had insisted he was a friend, nothing more than a friend, but he'd been so angry, so sick with jealousy, he'd refused to believe her.

Arthur thought back, trying to think of a time when Guinevere had ever lied to him, but he couldn't think of one, until, or so he'd thought, he saw her with that man in their garden and accused her of being unfaithful. He knew better than anyone, Guinevere took honesty seriously. He knew perfectly well, she would rather be told the truth, even if it was a truth that hurt, than be told a lie, and she lived her own life on the same principles. Guinevere was honest and wouldn't set out to hurt anyone deliberately, especially anyone she loved. Did she still love him, after all the pain he'd caused her over the last year? She'd told him so, when she found him crying one night over the mess he'd got them into, in the living room at home, weeks ago, but he'd been so wrapped up in his fears, he'd doubted her. The hurt in her eyes that night came back to him, the tears in her voice when she said the words again when he questioned her feelings.

In a moment, Arthur knew the truth. He had got it wrong. He'd seen Guinevere with that man and his own mind, twisted by jealousy and anger, had filled in the rest. How could he have ever doubted her? He had no idea now, but then, that day, the image of her with that man, combined with the fear of losing her he'd always tried to hide, had stopped him thinking clearly and he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Remembering where he was, Arthur walked into the hospital, praying he would have the chance to put his mistakes right.

Arthur went to the reception desk in the Accident and Emergency department and took his turn in a short queue. The department seemed eerily quiet now, at this stage of the afternoon. Most of the chairs in the waiting area were empty, though a few staff lingered around. He suddenly found himself at the front of the queue and cleared his throat to speak. "Yes sir?" A cheerful looking blonde smiled brightly.

Arthur cleared his throat again. "I'm looking for my wife, she was brought in earlier as an emergency. I believe she's having surgery, Guinevere Pendragon?"

The young woman checked a computer on the desk in front of her and then nodded. "Yes sir, your wife came in this morning. She was taken for surgery as soon as possible. I'll call up to gynaecology and someone will come down and speak to you shortly, will you take a seat for a moment?"

"Gynaecology?" Arthur repeated, his eyes widening.

The young woman in front of him nodded. "Yes sir, if you'd just like to sit down, I'll make the call now."

His head spinning, Arthur backed away from the reception desk and almost fell into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area. Gynaecology was something to do with having babies, wasn't it? He suddenly wished he'd listened more in biology at school, rather than sniggering with his mates when the class studied human reproduction.

Arthur had been waiting for a while when he was approached by a man in a white coat. He had grey, wiry hair and wore half-moon spectacles with silver frames, which shone under the artificial light of the department. "Mr. Pendragon?" The man asked, in a soft and reassuring tone. "I'm Mr. Louden, I was bleeped to Accident and Emergency when your wife was on the way into the hospital. I operated on her, I suppose you know, she was pregnant?"

Arthur's heart nearly jumped out of his chest and he gasped in shock. He shook his head. "No, no, I didn't know that." Then his mind latched on to something the man in front of him had said. His heart pounding in his ears, he asked the question. "You said she was pregnant, what...what did you mean, is she….?" He couldn't make himself say the words. Fear gripped him.

The doctor could see the colour drain from the face of the man he was speaking to. "Your wife will be fine," he said, sounding confident. Then his tone softened. "But I'm afraid she has experienced something called an ectopic pregnancy."

"A...what?" Arthur was struggling to think clearly. The only thing he had really taken in was the doctor saying Guinevere was going to be fine. Everything after that was a blur.

The doctor looked at Arthur, a solemn expression on his face. "An ectopic pregnancy, a pregnancy that develops outside the womb. In your wife's case, it had started to develop in one of her fallopian tubes, which, I'm sorry to say, ruptured. Your wife would have been in considerable pain for some time, and then, her fallopian tube ruptured, which led to her collapse today. When she was admitted she was very seriously ill, Mr. Pendragon, the paramedics who brought her in said her blood pressure crashed when they put her in the ambulance. They struggled to find a reading and had to stabilise her before she could be moved, which is no surprise to me, given that her internal bleeding was very bad." The doctor continued to speak, his tone steady and serious. "I believe a friend of your wife's called the paramedics today. You can take it from me, you probably owe him a very large drink. If he hadn't called the paramedics when he did, you would be about to visit your wife in the hospital's chapel of rest, but she got here just in time, thanks to him, so if you'll come with me, I'll take you up to see your wife now. We've put her in a side-ward, partly because we're so busy in the main ward, we just don't have any empty beds, but on the side-ward she'll also get more rest today, which she needs now. You should be aware, your wife has only been out of theatre a short time. She'll probably still be drowsy when you see her, but the anaesthetic will wear off soon, and then we'll make sure her pain relief is right, she'll be sore for some time yet."

"You're telling me my wife would have…?" Arthur found his voice again, but still wouldn't let himself say the word his mind turned away from with horror.

The doctor nodded. "Your wife would almost certainly have died, if she hadn't got here when she did."

"And….the baby?" Arthur dreaded the answer he sensed was coming.

The doctor shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid, in cases like this, the foetus can't be saved. I know it is no comfort to say it, but it would never have been a viable pregnancy. Your wife will need all the love and support you can give her, Mr. Pendragon. She will recover physically in the coming weeks, though a full recovery will take at least six weeks, she won't be able to drive for some time, or lift anything heavy. She won't be able to stand for long periods for a while, so she'll need looking after, but emotionally she will need even more support. Your wife will feel like she's lost a baby, she will need you to support her through the days and weeks ahead. Now, are you ready to see her?"

Swallowing hard, wondering how he would find the strength to give Guinevere the support she would need, but determined to try, Arthur nodded and followed the doctor towards the lift at the end of the department. It was time to see his wife.


	12. Chapter 12

**I continue to be so grateful to those of you who have left reviews for each chapter of my story. I'm amazed and humbled by how involved you are with the developments in the story. I have tweaked one little detail in the previous chapter. I mistakenly refer to Gwen's surgeon as Dr. Louden, but in fact, in the UK, he would in fact be a Mr., so I've changed that. The explanation for why he is a Mr. and not a doctor, is available on the internet, for those of you who might care to look, it's a historical thing with the way surgeons in the UK were trained in the past, but I can assure you, he is fully qualified. I should also point out that there is genuinely a gynaecologist with the name Louden in Winchester, I pinched the name from that.**

 **Now onwards. I should say there will probably only be a few chapter left in this, depending on whether my muse becomes inspired or not, but don't panic because there is still enough in my head for a short time.**

Arthur's heart was racing as he accompanied Guinevere's surgeon to the third floor in the hospital. He couldn't take in everything he'd heard over the last few minutes, the way the surgeon said Guinevere had been pregnant, and if she hadn't got to the hospital when she did, she would have died. His mind still recoiled from the thought that he could have lost her, it was too terrifying to think about how he would have gone on without her, how he would have brought up the children alone. He had to force himself to remember what Mr. Louden said, that she was going to be fine. He tried to focus on thinking how he was going to support her through the days and weeks ahead, but, he asked himself, given how he'd been treating her for months, leaving her alone to care for the children and run the house, and doing everything he could to avoid her, would she let him support her now?

Arthur followed the surgeon, a tall man in late middle age, who walked with a long and purposeful stride, down a long corridor, which had polished tiled floors, white painted walls and subdued artificial lighting. The odd window allowed the bright sunlight into the corridor, and the occasional picture on the walls provided something other than stark white to look at, but there was no escaping the clinical atmosphere in the building, which was highlighted by the strong odour of disinfectant.

Eventually, the doctor stood in front of a set of wooden double doors with a panel of frosted glass about halfway up. He opened one of the doors and allowed Arthur through, before following. "Just around the corner and the first on the left," the surgeon smiled lightly before his face fell. "Your wife was too unwell to know too much about what was going on when she came in," Mr. Louden went on, speaking in a gentle, but authoritative tone, which reminded Arthur of a cross between a vicar and a teacher. "She was in a great deal of pain and didn't really know what was going on around her, so she doesn't know the full facts yet. In any case, it's probably better for her to hear it now you're here with her, to give her the support she'll need."

Guilt shot through Arthur to think of all the time when he'd left Guinevere alone lately. To think of her in pain, when he was so far away from her, was agonising. "What caused it?" Arthur heard himself ask, speaking through a rising lump in his throat.

Mr. Louden shook his head. "Well, as in most things, there are risk factors, a previous ectopic pregnancy, infection in the uterus, fallopian tubes or ovaries, surgery on the fallopian tubes. People who have had previous abdominal surgeries are at risk, some forms of contraception carry a risk, as do some fertility problems and a condition called endometriosis. Being over thirty five carries a higher risk and women who smoke are also at risk, but a lot of women who experience an ectopic pregnancy have none of these risk factors and no obvious cause, so it is hard to say, but it's no one's fault. Unfortunately, sometimes, things just happen, Mr. Pendragon. I know that isn't very helpful, but it's true."

Arthur nodded, swallowed hard and then spoke again. "We...we lost a baby before, from cot death. We had a bad time, but Guinevere, she...she was very ill. She had a breakdown. Will that happen again?" The thought had been in Arthur's mind ever since he found out the pregnancy hadn't survived. How would Guinevere cope with losing another baby?

Mr. Louden seemed to consider his words before speaking. "We will give you both all the support we can, there are also organisations you can speak to, if it would help. When your wife is ready to go home, I would suggest you speak to your own doctor. Things have moved on, Mr. Pendragon, there are support networks out there, neither of you need to go through this alone."

Arthur nodded and then Mr. Louden led him forward in the way he'd directed, around a corner and to a door on his left. There was another door straight ahead, which, the surgeon explained, led to the main gynaecology ward.

"Strictly speaking," Mr. Louden stood in front of the door that would lead Arthur to Guinevere. It was another wooden door with a glass panel, which Arthur had to resist trying to see through, for a glimpse of his wife. "It isn't visiting time for a while yet, but we overlook the rules in cases of emergency. Rules are made to be broken, don't you think?"

A wry smile appeared on the lips of the older man and reflected in his eyes, making them seem brighter. Arthur allowed a hint of a smile to creep onto his own lips and nodded. "I have a friend who thinks like you." _You had a friend..._ The thought came from nowhere. That was another situation he had to put right, he thought, he'd treated a lot of people badly lately.

A moment later Mr. Louden opened the door in front of him and guided Arthur through, before following him into the room. Arthur felt the lump in his throat tighten further when he spotted Guinevere, lying on one of the two hospital beds in the middle of the room. The other bed was empty and stripped back to a bare mattress, while Guinevere was lying on her back, her eyes closed, her head turned towards the door. Guinevere's skin appeared shades lighter than usual to Arthur, her paleness contrasting starkly with her dark hair, which pooled all around her on the crisp white pillow her head lay on. She was covered by a white sheet up to her chest. A pink crotched blanket, which provided the only real colour in the room, lay at her feet and hung just over the sides of the bed. Guinevere's arms lay over the sheet covering her and she appeared to be wearing a shirt, but the wrong way around. Even with Arthur's limited medical knowledge, he suspected Guinevere was wearing a surgical gown, which had ties on the back. He made a mental note to bring Guinevere a nightshirt of her own to wear, he suspected she would prefer it.

Arthur dragged his eyes off Guinevere in the bed long enough to notice a nurse in the room. She was quietly checking on a bag of clear fluid hung on a stand next to the bed, which went into Guinevere's right hand, secured by several pieces of thin white tape. Her left hand lay on the bed, relaxed into a loose fist. Arthur was struck by the way her wedding ring shone when a ray of sunlight from the square window in the room, which stood to the left of the door and provided an unspectacular view over the hospital grounds, cast the bed in a pool of light, before gently fading away.

As he stepped forward, Mr. Louden acknowledged the nurse, who spoke to him quickly in a way Arthur didn't really take in. The nurse nodded in response to what the surgeon said in reply to her, and then slipped out of the room, silently closing the door behind her.

The surgeon stepped further into the room, to the side of Guinevere's bed, and then leaned forward. "Mrs Pendragon," he spoke gently but firmly. "Can you open your eyes for me, your husband is here? Come on now, open your eyes."

Arthur didn't know whether to step forward or hang back. He focused on Guinevere's face, waiting for any sort of suggestion that she was responding. His heart pounded when Guinevere's eyes began to flicker slightly, and then opened slowly. Without even thinking of it, Arthur stepped forward a little when Guinevere's eyes rested on him. His heart thumped to see the way her eyes shone when she looked at him and the merest hint of a smile crossed her lips.

"There we are," Mr. Louden spoke again and Guinevere's eyes were drawn to him. "How are feeling, Mrs Pendragon?"

Guinevere licked her lips, swallowed, and then licked her lips again. "Sore." Her voice sounded croaky. "It's sore, here." She raised her left hand weakly and indicated to the general area of her abdomen.

Mr. Louden nodded. "We'll give you something to ease that soon, don't you worry. Now, do you know where you are?"

Guinevere blinked and then dragged her eyes slowly around the room. When her eyes reached Arthur, the same gleam he'd noticed before appeared in her gaze, before sliding away when she dragged her eyes off him to look at the surgeon. "I'm in the hospital," she said, licking her lips again. "I think I fainted or something, I don't…." A puzzled expression came into her eyes.

Mr. Louden nodded. "Yes, that's right. You fainted at work and a colleague called an ambulance. You were in a lot of pain when you got here, do you remember?"

Guinevere blinked again. It appeared to Arthur as if she was slowly waking up and gaining more awareness of her surroundings, but every so often her eyes were drawn to him, resting on him for a while, before something else took her attention. Now she seemed to process what the surgeon said and nodded slowly. "I remember it hurt, worse today than the other days, in my back and my tummy. It hurt my shoulder too, where my shoulder ends and my arm begins, it felt strange."

The surgeon nodded. "The pain in your shoulder was probably because of your internal bleeding, which would have been irritating your diaphragm. Mrs Pendragon, did you know you were pregnant?"

Guinevere blinked rapidly and her eyes were drawn to Arthur for a moment. Looking into his eyes, she nodded. "I thought I was. I haven't had time to see the doctor or do a test yet, I had some morning sickness though, so I was certain I was."

The next few minutes were a blur to Arthur as Mr. Louden calmly explained to Guinevere what had happened to her. The only thing he really took in was the way Guinevere's eyes kept drifting to his, an anxious expression deep within them now. When Mr. Louden explained about the loss of the pregnancy, tears pooled in Guinevere's eyes, slipping down to the pillow beneath her head. Acting automatically to Guinevere's pain, Arthur stepped forward until he was at Mr. Louden's side. He reached out and took Guinevere's left hand in his. His feelings almost overwhelmed him when Guinevere gripped in response to his touch, her fingers interlocking with his. He clasped her hand tighter, trying to express something he just couldn't say while the other man was in the room.

"If…," Guinevere spoke again. Her voice was thick with tears and she still sounded croaky, as if her throat was dry. Arthur took in the bedside table for the first time and wished he could give her a drink. He made a mental note to speak to Mr. Louden about it, but put it aside for a moment to let Guinevere speak. "If I'd seen a doctor sooner, could the baby have lived?"

Pain shot through Arthur. Guinevere was blaming herself! He opened his mouth to speak, though he had no idea what he was going to say, but Mr. Louden spoke first. "I promise you Mrs Pendragon, even if you'd come in when you first felt uncomfortable, there would have been nothing that could be done for the pregnancy. It might have been a little easier for you physically, you might not have needed such a big surgery, but it wouldn't have made any difference to the outcome of your pregnancy, so you are not to blame, neither of you are." After giving Guinevere a moment to think over what he'd said, Mr. Louden went on. "You should be aware, your left fallopian tube was badly damaged when it ruptured. You needed a blood transfusion to deal with your blood loss, which was considerable, but unfortunately we weren't able to save your tube. However, should you decide you want more children, there is no reason to think you'll have any problems conceiving with one fallopian tube."

Looking like the last thing on her mind was having more children, Guinevere sighed and then, wincing in discomfort, she nodded.

Turning his attention to Guinevere's recovery in the days and weeks ahead, the surgeon continued to speak. When he was finished, he asked Guinevere again how she was feeling. When she said she was still sore, he said he would send a nurse in with something to help. "I'll ask one of them to bring you some water too," he said sympathetically. "You sound a bit dry, probably from the anaesthetic."

Expressing his sympathy for their loss, Mr. Louden slipped out of the room, telling Guinevere he would check in on her again later. "When the nurse comes in with the water," Mr. Louden spoke to Arthur now, "make sure she only has a few sips at first. We'll increase her fluid intake when she's a little more awake. We'll see if she might like a cup of tea and perhaps something to eat later, if she feels like it."

A moment later Arthur and Guinevere were alone. Mr. Louden had let the door to Guinevere's room close softly, so, apart from the odd person walking past the room, they couldn't hear a sound from the busy hospital. Still tearful, Guinevere turned her attention back to Arthur and a watery smile crossed her lips. "You came," she said softly, a note of disbelief in her voice. Her eyes seemed to swallow him, her gaze was so intense.

Arthur nodded. He'd been weeping softly without being aware of it since Guinevere began to cry. "Of course I did," he tried to gather himself. "That..." He thought of Lance and what he'd done for Guinevere that day and shook himself to let go of the misguided resentment he'd carried. "Lance used your phone to call me and I came as soon as I could. You're my wife and I love you, Guinevere."

Guinevere's eyes sparkled at Arthur's words and she gripped his hand tighter. "I've always known you do, well, nearly always, but sometimes, lately, I..." She struggled for the right words.

Arthur heaved a remorseful sigh and pulled Guinevere's left hand to his lips. He kissed her wedding ring reverently and then put her hand down on the bed, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. "I've been a complete bastard to you, a selfish, thoughtless, bastard." The self loathing he felt poured out of him with his tears. "I've treated you and the children like dirt Guinevere, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I swear to you, whatever happens, there will be no more of it. Whatever I have to do to fix it, I will do it. I'll be around more, I promise you, but I swear, I never stopped loving you Guinevere, or the children, not for a second."

Tears fell from Guinevere's eyes again. "I just don't understand what's been happening to us."

Arthur thought about what to say. Could he tell Guinevere about the mess they were in now, while she was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery? He shook his head, knowing he couldn't bring himself to hurt her like that, and knowing he would never find the words. "I can't tell you now," he continued to hold her hand as he spoke. He felt relieved when she didn't pull away from him. "When you're better, when you're stronger and back at home, we'll sit down and I promise you, I will tell you everything, but will you trust me until then? Believe me when I tell you, I'm so sorry Guinevere, and I will make it right, all of it, and I do love you, with all my heart, I swear."

Still weeping softly, Guinevere nodded. She tried to reach up to Arthur, the discomfort in her abdomen stopping her movement. Realising what she was trying to do, Arthur bent towards her. Looking into her eyes for a moment, taking in every feature of her beautiful face, Arthur lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly on the lips.

When they pulled out of the kiss, Arthur helped Guinevere to make herself comfortable again. She was still holding his hand and looking into his eyes. "There was never anything between me and Lance, Arthur, he was just my friend."

Heaving a sigh, Arthur nodded. "I know that now, Lance told me." Guinevere opened her mouth to say something, a dismayed look in her eyes. Arthur could see clearly what she thought, that he'd accepted Lance's word over hers, but he shook his head. "It also took me a while to remember you've never told me a lie, not once, since we met. I'm a fool Guinevere, a stupid, jealous fool, will you forgive me?"

Guinevere nodded. "I just want things back the way they were, Arthur. I don't expect you to be with me at every moment, but I need you to be around. It's not just me either, the children need you too." At the thought of the children, Guinevere's eyes suddenly widened and she tried to sit up. "Arthur, the children, they'll be expecting me to pick them up from your father's after school!"

Easing Guinevere back down to the bed, Arthur spoke softly. "Now just relax, I'll sort everything out. I'll call my father in a while and ask him to keep the children with him tonight. I'll go and collect some things from home for them and for you later, but I'm sure my father won't mind keeping the children overnight."

Guinevere frowned with worry. "I don't know, they might not like it. They've never stayed overnight with your father before, and since you've been away so much, they…" Guinevere stopped talking abruptly.

"They what?" Arthur asked, sensing Guinevere's reluctance to say anything else. "You can tell me, go on."

Guinevere sighed softly. "Since you've been away so much, the children have become a bit insecure, they like to know when they'll be picked up, who will pick them up, that sort of thing. I'm just worried they'll be unsettled at your father's, that's all, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty."

Guilty was exactly how Arthur felt. He knew he had a lot of making up to do with Guinevere, but he hadn't thought for a moment about how his behaviour had impacted on the children. "I'll sort it out," he sighed sadly. "I'll explain to them what's happened." Guinevere opened her mouth to speak, but Arthur went on. "I'll do it carefully, so as not to frighten them. I'll get them some things from home, a few toys and things. I just want to be with you tonight Guinevere, I don't want to let you out of my sight, not after what nearly..." He stopped talking when a lump rose again in his throat. Unable to hold his emotions in check, he broke down again.

Guinevere held Arthur's hand tighter. "I'm all right, I'll be all right," she soothed gently as Arthur wept, but all he did was weep harder at her gentleness, and then he leaned forward and buried his face in her neck.

After a while, Arthur regained control of himself and stood up properly, though he still leaned on the bed, getting as close to Guinevere as he could. He could barely take his eyes off her. The thought of how close he'd come to losing her forever lingered in his heart, reminding him painfully of all the time he'd wasted when he could have been with her, but chose to go to work in a desperate attempt to deal with the mess he'd got them into. He thought about the pregnancy. How could he have not known Guinevere was pregnant? he asked himself. Gathering himself and still holding her hand, he found his voice again. "Why didn't you tell me about the pregnancy?" He kept his voice low and soft, so that Guinevere would know he wasn't about to fly into a mood.

Guinevere shook her head sadly. "I suppose I wanted to hurt you back for hurting me when you accused me of having an affair with Lance. It was stupid and childish, I'm sorry."

Arthur looked Guinevere in the eye as he spoke again. "You don't need to apologise to me for anything. I'm the one in the wrong, if I'd just been at home, I would have known you were pregnant, and maybe I would have nagged you into seeing a doctor when you were in pain. The stupid thing is, I was coming home that day, when I saw you with Lance. I was coming home and I was going to apologise for being away so much. I was going to explain everything and ask you for a chance to fix it, but then I saw you with him and my jealousy got in the way. I'm so sorry, Guinevere."

"I thought I'd pulled a muscle when I was running around with the children and Lance that day, when you saw us in the garden." Guinevere explained hesitantly. She stroked Arthur's hand tenderly as she spoke. He found the gesture soothing and leaned in closer to her. "I'd realised the day before, I was about seven weeks pregnant, but I never connected the pain and the pregnancy, even when it got worse. All I know is, I never want to experience pain like that again, it was awful. There was a moment today, when I dropped the children off at school. I felt like I was never going to see them again, and then, when I felt faint, I asked Lance to call you for me. I can't explain it, but I tried to tell him I needed you to come home, but everything went black before I could finish asking him to call. For a moment, when I felt so ill at my first call, before I passed out, I really thought I was going to die, Arthur, and all I could think about was you and the children."

"I'm just glad you got here in time," Arthur said, brokenly, holding back tears again. "If you'd been on your own at home, or even with the children, it just doesn't bear thinking about, but I'm so glad you're still here. I love you, Mrs Pendragon." Arthur leaned forward once more, burying his face in Guinevere's neck again, trying to be as close to her as possible without hurting her. When he leaned towards her, she slipped her left arm around him and gently stroked his back.

Just as Arthur was standing upright again, the door to Guinevere's room opened and a nurse walked in. She carried a jug of water in one hand, a plastic beaker under the same arm and a plastic kidney-dish, with what appeared to be a syringe in the bottom, in the other hand. Smiling as she walked into the room, her face fell and she looked awkward. "I'm so sorry to disturb you both," her striking hazel eyes hovered between Arthur and Guinevere when she realised they'd been having a moment together when she walked in. "Mr. Louden asked me to pop in and give you something to ease your discomfort after your surgery, and he asked me to bring you some water," she addressed Guinevere now, her momentary discomfort slipping away as her professionalism asserted itself. "How are you feeling now, Mrs Pendragon?"

A hint of a smile graced Guinevere's lips. "Don't worry, it's not a problem. I feel a bit better now, thanks, but I'm still a bit sore. Can I introduce you to my husband?"

"Mr. Pendragon, it's nice to meet you properly," the nurse smiled and Arthur nodded in greeting. He recognised the nurse who was in the room when he arrived. She had curly auburn hair, though most of it was tied into a bun, and freckles dusted her nose, but the most striking thing about her was her eyes, which lit up animatedly as she spoke.

"Am I in your way?" Reluctantly, Arthur released Guinevere's left hand and took a step aside to give the nurse space to work.

"Thanks," the nurse acknowledged Arthur moving out of her way. She put the jug of water down on the bedside table and then took the beaker out from under her arm and placed it beside the jug. Putting the kidney dish down on the bed, she smiled reassuringly at Guinevere. "I'm just going to give you a small injection to ease your discomfort. I'll be as quick as I can, you'll just feel a small scratch in your arm for a second, and then, in a short while, you should feel more comfortable."

Guinevere nodded and her lips curled into a smile at the nurse when she spotted Arthur turning his back on the bed for a moment and looking out of the window as if there was something fascinating going on in the hospital grounds. The nurse smiled conspiratorially at Guinevere while she worked and deliberately made a bit more noise than she really needed to when she put the used syringe back into the kidney-dish, so that her patient's husband would know she was finished. "There we are, all done," she announced, just to be clear. "Would you like a sip of water now?"

Arthur turned and walked towards the bed just as the nurse was helping Guinevere to a small drink. He watched Guinevere lick her lips after the water, while the nurse supported her to sit up a little for a moment and then helped her to lie down again. "Mr. Louden wants us to try and get you up for a little while tomorrow," the nurse said, putting the empty beaker Guinevere had just drunk from back on the bedside table. "You need to stay where you are today, but patients tend to do better if they move as quickly as possible after surgery, so we'll get you up and into a chair for a while tomorrow, just while we make your bed and give you a wash, okay?"

Guinevere nodded and thanked the nurse for her help. When the nurse was on her way out of the room, Arthur spoke. "Can I stay tonight, I'd like to be with my wife, if it's possible?"

The nurse considered for a moment and then smiled. "Mr. Louden is very flexible with the rules, I'm sure he won't mind, but when we do the hand over to the night shift, I'll let them know to try to keep the ward Sister out of your way. She's very efficient and good at her job, but let's just say, her people skills leave a little to be desired. The truth is, we call her The Dragon. If you get to meet her, you'll know why." The nurse moved towards the door and then turned back to Arthur. "I'll bring in a chair for you before I go off shift. I could bring some bedding," she indicated to the empty bed in the room, "but that might attract attention. We'll get away with a chair, if I bring it at visiting time, in an hour or so, I can say it's for a visitor, and then I'll just forget to come and collect it before my shift ends." The nurse gave Arthur and Guinevere a conspiratorial wink and then left the room.

Arthur and Guinevere smiled together when the nurse had left the room. "Well, at least I know you're in safe hands with that one," Arthur grinned and took his place at Guinevere's bedside again, instinctively taking her left hand in his and caressing her wedding ring absently as he spoke. "I get the feeling she's done a few things behind the ward Sister's back, don't you?"

Guinevere smiled, but then her face fell. "I hope she doesn't get into trouble for helping us, don't you think it would be better if you went and picked the children up from your father's and then went home?"

Arthur's smile slipped away, though his humour lingered in his eyes. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Mrs Pendragon?" His tone was warm and affectionate.

Guinevere smiled wider and shook her head. "No, not at all, I'd love you to stay, truly."

Arthur beamed. "Good, because you'd have to get out of that bed to get rid of me, and you heard the nurse, you're not allowed up until tomorrow."

Arthur stayed with Guinevere for another hour, but as the afternoon became late, Guinevere began to fret about the children, who would be expecting her to pick them up from their grandpa's house soon. Giving up on the idea of phoning his father to tell him what had happened, Arthur looked at his watch and realised Guinevere was right. The children would be at his father's by now, and they would be expecting Guinevere to arrive very soon, so he needed to go and tell them what had happened to their mother.

Leaning over the bed, Arthur kissed Guinevere softly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll go to my father's and see the children first, and then I'll go home and get some things for you and the children. I'll drop the children's things off at my father's on the way back here, is there anything you want from home?"

Guinevere told Arthur what she needed, some toiletries, perhaps a towel and face-cloth of her own, a night-shirt or two, some underwear, her dressing gown and her slippers from their bedroom. "Mr. Louden might be able to give me some idea of how long I might have to stay here for when he does his rounds later," Guinevere added. "I suppose I might need some clothes to change in to in a day or two, but don't worry about it now."

Kissing Guinevere again and releasing her hand reluctantly, Arthur left her alone, repeating his assurance he'd be back as soon as possible. On his way out of the gynaecology department, he bumped into the nurse he'd met with Guinevere earlier and let her know he was popping home for a while. Catching on to his meaning straight away, the nurse said she'd check on Guinevere shortly and would keep an eye on her until he got back.

Leaving the hospital quickly, Arthur went out to his car and jumped in. He checked the time again and realised he was probably going to be a bit late, especially if the traffic was busy in town. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it, he put his foot down as much as possible and made his way to his father's house.

Getting out of his car about twenty minutes later, Arthur knocked on his father's front door and waited. He'd just managed to avoid the worst of the traffic in town, but he knew he was still later than Guinevere would usually be, if she was picking the children up. Remorse went through him again when he remembered what Guinevere said about how insecure the children had become since he'd been away so much. He'd felt the same when he was a child, he thought back through the years to when he was the children's age. Knowing how it felt to feel he could be left alone at any moment, or that he'd been forgotten about because other things were more important to his father than he seemed to be, how could he do that to his own children?

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts when the front door opened and he came face to face with his father. He saw the way his father's brows rose towards his hairline in surprise for a moment, and then formed a deep frown. When his father's eyes became steely, Arthur knew he was about to get a lecture. "Oh, so you've remembered where I live, how good of you?" Uther's voice was stern. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Look father," Arthur didn't even try to defend himself. He knew it would only make it worse while his father was so annoyed, but he also knew his behaviour was indefensible. Feeling like a wayward fifteen year old, he shook his head. "I know I've behaved badly. I'll fix it, but will you just…?"

"You behaved badly!" The tone of Uther's voice made Arthur flinch. He didn't shout, but he was clearly furious. His eyes were dark and cold, just as Arthur remembered them from years before, when he'd committed some minor misdemeanour as a child, or he'd done something at the office his father didn't approve of. "Guinevere has run herself ragged to look after your children, run your house and hold down a demanding job, while you've been swanning off God knows where, and then what do you do? Instead of coming home and going down on your knees to that girl to beg her forgiveness, you come home and accuse her of having an affair, just because a man spent a bit of time with her and took enough interest in your son to watch him play football!"

"I know father, but I..." Arthur tried to speak when his father took a breath, but then Uther caught his second wind and his voice rose slightly.

"Don't you dare make an excuse for your behaviour!" Uther was almost yelling now. He turned and looked down the hallway for a moment, obviously remembering his grandchildren were in the house, and lowered his voice. "How could you treat Guinevere and the children like that, when you know better than anyone what it's like to feel abandoned and alone? How could you do to your children what I did to you for years, didn't you learn anything from your childhood?"

Something in Arthur suddenly snapped. Biting his lip to hold back the emotion he felt coming, he looked into his father's eyes. When he was sure he could speak, he found his voice. "Yes father, I learned a lot from my childhood. I learned to not bother sharing my problems, because the person I thought I should have been able to talk to, was never there. I learned to run away from my problems, because that was what you did. I learned to focus on work and material gain, because that was easier than having to face up to anything, especially something so inconsequential as feelings. In short father," Arthur went on, almost shaking with frustration. "I learned to be like you."

Arthur could see immediately, he'd struck a nerve. Uther looked like Arthur had punched him in the guts. "Look, father, I..." he tried to take what he'd said back, but he could see in his father's face, it was too late.

His top lip quivering with emotion, Uther looked down at his feet for a moment and then he looked back at Arthur. "You already know how bitterly I regret the past Arthur, what else can I say?"

Arthur shook his head, knowing his mouth had run away with him. "I didn't mean to say any of that, I'm sorry."

Uther swallowed hard. "The thing is, Arthur, we both know you did mean it, don't we? We both know how I treated you as a child, how I tried to run away from the loss of your mother. We both know I spent more time at work than I spent with you, because I was frightened of the reality of having to bring you up without your mother's guidance, and we both know I never made time for your problems or feelings, because I was too busy trying to bury my own, don't we?"

Knowing what his father said was true, but hating himself for it, Arthur nodded. "Yes, but I never meant to throw the past back in your face. It's over with father, it's done, and I don't hold it against you, not any more. I've made enough mistakes of my own lately, which is why I'm here. I need to see the children father, I've got to tell them something about Guinevere."

Uther's face fell at the expression on his son's face. "What is it, what's the matter?" The angry frown Uther had worn moments before became a deep line of fear. "What's happened to Guinevere, is she all right?"

Arthur told his father what had happened to Guinevere. He told him about the phone call from Lance when he was in Warwickshire. He told him about arriving at the hospital a couple of hours later, to find out Guinevere was in surgery. Arthur told his father about Guinevere having been pregnant, but it was an ectopic pregnancy, which he explained to his father as well as he could, trying to remember what Mr. Louden had said. He told his father what the surgeon had said, that the pregnancy couldn't be saved and Guinevere had suffered internal bleeding. "She...she nearly died father," Arthur almost whispered, a lump rising in his throat. "They said...if she hadn't got to the hospital when she did, she would've…."

Suddenly Arthur found himself leaning on his father, his eyes blurred by tears. He felt his father's arms go around him and hold him close. "Oh, my dear boy," Uther soothed him gently. "My dear boy."

Arthur wept in his father's arms for some time, allowing himself to release all the fear he'd been feeling since Lance's call. When he could speak without fear of breaking down again, he gathered himself together and followed his father into his former family home, preparing himself to see his children.

When Arthur spotted the children, he smiled in spite of himself. Amhar was curled up in a big armchair near the French windows in the living room. She was sitting across the chair, her head resting against the back, her legs dangling over one of the sides, and she was fast asleep. Llacheu was sitting on the plush carpet, his eyes glued to the television, where a football match was just starting to go into its second half.

Walking into the room quietly and sitting himself down on the carpet next to his son, while Uther hung back in the background, Arthur smiled. "Who's playing then, anyone I should know?"

Llacheu gasped with shock and turned away from the television, his eyes wide with surprise. "Dad!" he exclaimed. Llacheu rushed into his father's arms and hugged him tightly, before letting go and turning to his sister on the armchair. Seeing that Amhar was still asleep, Llacheu turned his attention back to his father. "Where's Mum, is she here with you?" He looked around to see if he could see his mother.

Arthur shook his head and gathered his thoughts. The moment he'd been quietly dreading had come. "No, Mum isn't here," he started, thinking carefully what to say. He reached out and took one of Llacheu's hands in his, studying it carefully, so as to avoid looking at his face, which was so like Guinevere's. "Your Mum isn't very well, Llacheu," he went on, finally forcing himself to look into his son's eyes. "She became poorly at work and needed to go to hospital for an operation on her tummy."

Llacheu nodded thoughtfully. "I thought Mum looked poorly this morning, when she took me to school. I think she had tummy ache, and she's been sick sometimes, especially in the mornings."

Arthur swallowed hard against the sting of tears in the back of his throat. Llacheu's innocent words reminded him forcefully that Guinevere had been pregnant, but the baby was gone. "The thing is," Arthur went on, clearing his throat and looking over to Amhar to see she was still fast asleep in the armchair. "I need you and Amhar to be very grown up for a day or two, just until your Mum is a bit better. Llacheu, I need to stay with your Mum at the hospital, just for tonight, just until she's feeling a little bit better, so would you stay with Grandpa tonight, you and Amhar?" Arthur turned to his father as he spoke, and Uther nodded deeply to show his agreement.

Llacheu's eyes widened. "We would stay here with Grandpa, all night, and sleep here too?"

Arthur nodded. "Would that be all right? I would bring you some things from home, some games and things, and your night clothes." He had a thought. "I could even bring your pillow from your beds, if it would make you more comfortable."

Llacheu considered. "What about school tomorrow?"

"I can take you both to school, don't you worry," Uther spoke before Arthur could work out what to do. In his haste to make sure the children could be looked after overnight, so that Guinevere wouldn't worry, he hadn't given a thought for what to do about sending them to school. He thanked his father with his eyes.

Releasing his son's hand, Arthur stood. "Grandpa can take you to school in the morning, and then what if I come and pick you both up tomorrow afternoon, when you finish school? If your Mum is feeling a little better I'll come home tomorrow night, but maybe Grandpa could come and sit with you at home for a while, while I go and see Mum again in the evening, how about that?"

When Llachue nodded, Arthur turned his attention back to Uther. "Are you sure you don't mind taking the children to school tomorrow, and would you have the children for a while tomorrow evening, it might only be for an hour or so?"

"Of course I don't mind," Uther shook his head as if he thought the question was ridiculous. "They're my grandchildren Arthur, it's what I'm for."

Arthur breathed a relieved sigh. "Right, I'll get off home and bring the children some things, and once I've dropped them off here I want to get back to Guinevere. The surgeon said he would check on her again later, so I want to see if he's done his rounds. When he's seen her again, we might have some idea of how long she'll be expected to be in there."

Llacheu jumped to his feet suddenly. "Dad, can I come with you?" He looked up at his father expectantly.

Arthur shook his head. "You can't come to the hospital, Llacheu," he tried to be clear, so his son would understand. "If Mum is still in hospital in a few days, I'll take you and Amhar to see her, I promise, but she's not well enough tonight, I'm sorry."

Llacheu shook his head. "No, not the hospital Dad, can I come and help you get our things from home? I know what Amhar will want, and I can help you find Mum's things, can't I?"

Seeing the worry in Llacheu's eyes, Arthur gave in, knowing his son was probably right. He would know what Amhar would want, and he'd probably have a good idea of what Guinevere might need. "Come on then," he reached out a hand and ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "It's probably just as well I've still got car seats for you and Amhar in my car." The thought made Arthur wonder why he'd not got round to taking the car seats out of his car, given that he hadn't been home enough to take the children out for ages. He pushed the thought away, suddenly remembering he would need to do something about picking up Guinevere's car. He made a mental note to call Hunith at Guinevere's agency as soon as he had a moment, to ask her where Guinevere was when she collapsed.

A short time later, Llacheu was safely strapped in on the back seat of his father's car, and they were on their way home. When they got there, Arthur took out his front door key and let them in. He was immediately aware of a sense of Guinevere in the house. The furniture, the décor, the atmosphere in the place, spoke of Guinevere's touch. His mind wandered again to how close he'd come to losing her that day and how he would have gone on without her if she hadn't survived. He pictured his days without her, an endless round of darkness, because the person who brought the light into his life would have been gone.

"Dad?" Llacheu's voice interrupted Arthur's thoughts and he forced them away, clearing his throat.

Arthur looked down at his son and smiled. While he'd been deep in thought, Llacheu had brought some pyjamas for himself and Amhar downstairs. He'd remembered their toothbrushes and toothpaste, he'd even found his mother's toiletry bag from the bathroom upstairs.

"Do we need anything else, Dad?" Llacheu asked uncertainly, looking up at his father.

Arthur thought and then nodded. "I need to get your Mum some night things," he opened Guinevere's toiletry bag and checked the contents. "We need to find your Mum a bar of soap, a face-cloth and a towel. There's only a toothbrush and some toothpaste in her bag."

Arthur and Llacheu went upstairs and found all the things they needed. While Arthur was sorting out some night shirts, a dressing gown and some underwear for Guinevere, he sent Llacheu to find some toys for him and Amhar to play with at their Grandpa's house. When they thought they had everything they needed, Arthur put the children's things in a bag, and then he put Guinevere's things in a small suitcase he'd found in their wardrobe.

Arthur and Llacheu were halfway downstairs, when Llachue suddenly stopped walking. "George!" he exclaimed, and then ran off back up the stairs. Before Arthur could think, Llacheu was back, clutching a teddy bear that had clearly seen better days. "Amhar won't go to bed without George," Llacheu explained knowingly. He was right, Arthur mused, a strange feeling coming over him. How could he have forgotten a thing like that, he knew Amhar wouldn't be parted from George. When she was toddling he'd tried to talk her into having a new teddy bear, because George went with her everywhere and was starting to look rather worn. Amhar wouldn't hear of it and clung to George as if her life depended on it. Now George was looking distinctly old, with ears that were uneven and lopsided, and a nose that seemed to be hanging on by a stroke of luck and a thin thread of cotton, but Amhar still wouldn't part with him.

When Arthur and Llachue were back in the car and were about to set off to Uther's house again, Llacheu looked through the wing mirror to speak to his father. "Dad?"

Arthur heard the question in his son's voice and nodded at his reflection in the wing mirror.

"Mummy isn't going to die, is she?" Llacheu's question seemed to linger in his eyes after he'd said the words.

Without a word, Arthur got out of the car and opened the passenger door, to find his son on the back seat. Crouching down, Arthur reached for Llacheu and embraced him tightly. He didn't know what shocked him more, the question Llacheu had asked, or the way he'd called Guinevere Mummy. Right from the time Llache had started pre-school, he'd called Guinevere and Arthur Mum and Dad. Arthur could still recall him saying over dinner one evening, when he was no more than three and a half, he was a big boy now and saying Mummy and Daddy was what babies do, so he was going to call them Mum and Dad. Listening to his son now, his voice so small when he called Guinevere Mummy, shook Arthur in a way he couldn't even express to himself.

Easing Llacheu out of his arms a moment later, Arthur looked at him seriously. "I promise you Llachue, Mummy isn't going to die. She was very poorly earlier," he went on, choosing his words carefully. "But she's already looking much better, so I promise you, she isn't going to die. As soon as she's better she'll be back at home with us, okay?"

When Llacheu nodded, Arthur embraced him again and then let him go. He got back into the driver's seat quickly and started the car.

About twenty minutes later, Arthur had dropped Llacheu and the children's things back at his father's. By then Amhar was awake. She went to rush into her father's arms, but then something held her back and she eyed him warily. Arthur's heart sank. He remembered the night Guinevere caught him crying in the living room at home, when he'd dismissed Amhar sharply when she went downstairs. Knowing he had to make amends before the gulf between him and his daughter widened, and that he had to explain what was going on to Amhar, Arthur knelt on the carpet in his father's living room and gathered both of his children into the circle of his arms. "I know I haven't been around very much for a long time," he said, when his father left the room to go and start preparing a meal for the children's dinner. "Even when I have been at home, I haven't been very nice to be around, have I?" Neither child reacted to that and Arthur was grateful. "I just want you to know, I'm sorry for not being here and I'm sorry if I've been horrible to you. I love you both, very much."

Amhar looked into her father's eyes. "And Mummy?"

Amhar's little face was so solemn, Arthur blinked several times and swallowed a lump in his throat."Yes, I love Mummy too, very much." Arthur then spent a few minutes trying to explain to Amhar about Guinevere, which brought on a few tears from his daughter. Taking her in his arms and holding her close, Arthur spoke gently, trying to reassure her. When she was calmer, he hugged both of the children tightly, and then, wishing them a good night and asking them to be good for their Grandpa, he slipped out of the room.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur turned to his father, who was standing in his kitchen preparing some vegetables. "Will they be all right, do you think?"

"They'll be fine," Uther nodded. "You've been as honest with them as possible, that's all you can do."

Arthur nodded and a thought came to mind. "Would you phone the nursing home and ask them to let you speak to Tom? I don't like to worry him, but I don't think it's right to keep him in the dark about Guinevere. He probably wants my head on a plate for leaving her alone so much as it is, and he'd have a point."

Uther could see the remorse in Arthur's eyes and nodded, and then he asked the question that had been in the back of his mind since he saw Arthur on his doorstep. "Arthur, look, about this last year or so, what's been going on? I know something has been wrong, but..."

Arthur shook his head. He knew his father would ask. "I can't tell you now," he said apologetically. "I need to tell Guinevere first, but I can't do that until she's stronger, do you understand?"

To Arthur's relief, Uther nodded. "Of course, but just remember, if I can be of help, please don't let your pride stand in your way. I'm your father, I want to help you."

Arthur nodded and patted his father on the back. Then, after wishing his father a good night, he went out to his car.

It didn't take long for Arthur to get back to the hospital. He found a parking space as quickly as possible and then went inside. He went back up to the gynaecology department and quickly realised it must be visiting time. There seemed to be a lot more people around than earlier. Making his way to Guinevere's room, he went in quietly. He found her on her bed, still covered in a white sheet to her chest and with her eyes closed, but her eyes fluttered open when he approached the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry," Arthur bent down and kissed Guinevere softly. "How are you?"

Guinevere smiled affectionately. "It's fine, I didn't realise I'd fallen asleep again. I feel a bit sore, but much better than earlier. How were the children, are they all right?"

Arthur told Guinevere about the children and how Llacheu had helped him find all the things Guinevere would need for a few days. He indicated the small suitcase he'd brought with him from home. He suddenly noticed a change in Guinevere's face. "What is it, is something wrong?"

Guinevere shook her head, but couldn't hold back the tears in her eyes. "I'm just being silly." She ran a hand over her eyes to stop her tears. "That's just the suitcase I used for the hospital when the children were born, that's all."

"Oh, Guinevere," Arthur could have kicked himself. "I'm so sorry love, I just picked up the first case that came to hand in the wardrobe, I'm so sorry." He leaned down and tried to put his arms around Guinevere without disturbing her too much.

A short time later the nurse who Arthur and Guinevere had met earlier came in, trying to push a wooden armchair with a high leather back and a deep seat, into the room. Giving her a hand, Arthur realised the chair was for him and pushed it to Guinevere's bedside, where he sat down. The chair wasn't very comfortable, he thought, but it would do for a night.

The nurse checked on Guinevere, taking her pulse and blood pressure, before asking how her pain was doing. When Guinevere said it was manageable for now, the nurse left them alone, saying she would come back with some more pain relief before her shift finished.

When they were alone, Guinevere turned her head so that she could see Arthur as he sat by the bedside. "Mr. Louden did his rounds while you were seeing the children."

Arthur's brow furrowed in concern. "What did he say, are you all right?"

Guinevere nodded. "He said he wants me to stay in hospital for five days. He wants me to have a rest and recover properly from the surgery. He said the scar from the surgery is fifteen centimetres long, which sounds huge to me. He wants me to stay in hospital until my stitches are out, but he said the stitches will dissolve on their own. Five days though, Arthur, I've never spent that long without the children."

Arthur stood and took Guinevere into his arms as well as he could. "Look," he said, looking into her eyes when they pulled apart. "The children are fine. In a day or two, when you feel up to it, I'll bring them to see you, but until then, they'll be fine. Just concentrate on getting better now, and don't worry about anything."

Much later, when the skies were starting to darken when Arthur looked out of the window in Guinevere's room, which was now bathed in the soft light of a lamp on her bedside table, she yawned loudly. Turning to Guinevere, a wide smile on his face, he asked if she was tired.

Guinevere nodded sleepily. "I suppose it must still be the anaesthetic. Mr. Louden said my surgery took a bit longer than usual, just over an hour and a half instead of the usual hour or so. I was in the recovery room after my surgery for an hour too, so I suppose I'm still feeling the effect."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. Guinevere had seemed tired since he got back to the hospital from seeing the children. Still, he thought, trying not to worry, it was probably to be expected, given what she'd been through. A while after he got back to her, she'd been able to drink a cup of tea. He'd talked her nurse into letting him help Guinevere to sit up a little more to drink her tea, but when she was offered something to eat she'd shaken her head and refused, admitting she didn't feel up to it, though she'd insisted he go to the hospital canteen for something for himself. He did as he was told, grabbing a quick sandwich, before spending the evening with Guinevere.

Now Guinevere seemed to be fighting to stay awake. Focusing on Arthur, she seemed to be keeping her eyes open by an act of willpower.

After a long moment of watching Guinevere watching him, Arthur sighed heavily. "Look, I'm not going anywhere, Guinevere, why don't you just give in, I can see how tired you are?"

"But you've stayed to keep me company," Guinevere yawned again. "I'm sorry, I am tired."

Arthur got up out of the chair by Guinevere's bedside and leaned towards her. He kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Go to sleep, Guinevere," he whispered softly, watching while her eyes closed and she fell into a peaceful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**My thanks to those of you who left reviews for the previous chapter. I seem to have confused some of you with the previous chapter and I'm not sure why. Arthur and Guinevere's issues are not over. Just because Arthur is home and being an affectionate husband and father again, that isn't the end of the story, not yet. If you read chapter 11, you know something Guinevere still does not know. You know what the secret is that Arthur has been keeping from his family, but as yet, Guinevere doesn't. What Arthur has had is a wake up call. When Arthur found Guinevere with Lance, he was coming home to apologise for his mistakes. He got side-tracked by his jealousy. I think Arthur would be able to get over his jealousy pretty quickly if he feared for Guinevere's life, which he had every reason to do in chapter 12, but Arthur still has to tell Guinevere what he's been keeping from her, and she still has to respond to that, so don't assume we're done yet.**

 **I should apologise for the delay with this. I have had house guests for a time and they will be here again this week for a short time. Obviously, I can't leave guests unattended while I write. Also, I have had some other matters to attend to. I do wish some reviewers would not leap to the conclusion that stories have been abandoned every time there is a delay. I delayed Six Weeks To Midnight for a time, but it was never abandoned, just put on hold. I have abandoned one story in my time, but one day I might even go back and finish it, so please don't leap to conclusions and please have just a bit of patience. I can't produce chapters out of thin air.**

Guinevere stirred when she heard a door opening somewhere. Opening her eyes, it took a second for her to get her bearings. She remembered where she was when she tried to sit up and felt a tugging sensation in her abdomen as she moved. The previous day came back, being in awful pain before she took the children to school, and feeling as if she would never see them again when she left them. She remembered still being in pain when she went to work. Thinking back now, Guinevere wondered how she'd managed to drive the short distance from home to her first call. She'd been in agony and felt sick and faint, she'd driven almost on memory, without thinking about where she was going. When Lance helped her inside at her first call, she knew something was very wrong. It was almost as if she was separate from everything, not like when she was ill after Gwydre died, she recalled, but as if everything around her was happening from a long way away and in slow motion. The only things Guinevere could think about with any clarity was Arthur and the children. She held on to them in her mind, pictured them, while everything else seemed to blur. Suddenly, without being able to explain it to herself, Guinevere knew she needed Arthur to come home. She was holding her mobile phone in her hand, about to ask Lance to call Arthur for her. The last thought she had before everything went black was to wonder if Arthur would care enough to come home.

"Good morning, Mrs Pendragon, how are you feeling?" Guinevere blinked when she realised she wasn't alone. She took in a slightly built nurse with short blonde hair and pale blue eyes, who was checking on the drip that went into Guinevere's hand. "I'm sorry to disturb you," the nurse went on, barely speaking above a whisper. "I just need to do your observations, check on your drip, check your temperature, blood pressure and pulse, that sort of thing. I won't be a moment, and I'll try not to wake your husband."

At the mention of Arthur, Guinevere's head turned to the left side of her hospital bed. Arthur was fast asleep in a high backed leather chair with wooden arms. His chin rested on his chest and he was snoring softly.

Guinevere remembered the previous night. She'd woken a couple of times through the night, feeling sore and uncomfortable. When Arthur had gone to see the children at his father's earlier in the afternoon, the auburn-haired nurse Guinevere had become familiar with went to check on her. She'd pointed out a red button on a cord near the bed, which could be used if she needed anything. Guinevere had been about to press the button in the night when Arthur, who had been quietly dozing in the chair at her side, began to stir. "What's the matter?" he asked urgently, suddenly wide awake, his eyes filled with worry. "What do you need?" He got up out of the chair and moved to Guinevere's side. "Are you in pain?"

Guinevere shook her head. "I'm just a bit sore, I was just pressing the button to ask for some pain relief. I don't know what they gave me earlier, but it helped."

Before Guinevere could move again to press the button, Arthur had done it. He turned on the lamp on Guinevere's bedside table, illuminating the room in a soft glow, and then he took Guinevere's left hand in his and held it tightly.

A nurse had come along a short time later and asked what the problem was. Arthur had gone to say something to the nurse, but Guinevere could see how irritated he looked, a result, she knew him well enough to know, of his sleep being disturbed, and interrupted him, explaining politely to the nurse that she felt sore.

The nurse had gone away and returned a moment later with a syringe in a kidney-dish. After a quick injection, the nurse left the room and Guinevere settled back down. "You probably should have gone home," she said softly, turning to look at Arthur as he continued to stand at her bedside. "You nearly snapped at that poor nurse, I could see it in your eyes. You're over-tired, you must have had a long drive today, you should be at home."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm just worried about you, that's all, and if you think I'd leave you alone after the day you've had, you've got to be joking." Then Arthur's face fell and he looked at Guinevere with remorse in his eyes. He picked up her left hand in his and held it over his heart. "My priorities have been a mess for months, Guinevere, I know that now. When Lance called I was in Warwickshire, working at one of the sites for the private developments. When he told me you were ill, I didn't believe him at first, I didn't _want_ to believe him, but then something happened. I can't explain it, but I knew I had to come home to you, so I got into my car and drove for two hours. They were the longest two hours of my life, Guinevere. I was terrified of something happening to you while I wasn't here. All I could think about was what would happen if something happened to you before I could get back and tell you how sorry I am for the way I've treated you. If the last thing I'd got to say to you had been to accuse you of doing something I know you would never do, I..." Arthur stopped talking and bowed his head in shame, holding Guinevere's hand tighter over his racing heartbeat.

"Shh," Guinevere soothed Arthur tenderly. "I've been hurt and angry with you at times, I admit that. Not just for me, for the children, Arthur, they've missed you, and you haven't been the easiest person to be around even when you have been here, but you've told me it'll stop now and I believe you. All I want you to do is talk to me, tell me what's been going on, that's all."

Arthur nodded and swallowed. "I will, I promise, but not here, not now. When you're back home, when you're better, we'll talk and I'll tell you everything."

"Okay then," Guinevere nodded, too tired to talk any more. Yawning, she settled back down to sleep. She was only vaguely aware of Arthur releasing her hand and sitting back down in the leather chair before she drifted off to sleep again.

When Guinevere woke again, an hour or two before dawn, Arthur woke immediately. He was bleary-eyed and his hair stood up in all directions. When he pressed the button to call a nurse, he yawned widely and rubbed a hand over his face to stir himself. He stood at Guinevere's side, holding her hand, until the nurse came in with more pain relief. Only when Guinevere was more comfortable and dozing back to sleep, did Arthur sit back down in the chair. He watched Guinevere sleep for a while, his eyes watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, until sleep claimed him again.

Now, in the light of a new day, Guinevere thanked the nurse when she finished what she needed to do. The nurse left the room, saying she would be back shortly with some pain relief.

When the nurse was gone, Guinevere lay in the quiet of the early morning light and watched Arthur sleep. She wondered for a moment if she should wake him. In the position he was in, his chin resting on his chest, his neck would be stiff when he moved, but he was sleeping so peacefully, she didn't have the heart to disturb him. The truth was, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Arthur sleeping so peacefully. For months he'd been tossing and turning all night, on the rare occasions he was at home, or he woke in the night and stood staring out of the bedroom window, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, if he didn't end up downstairs, leaving her to go and look for him. What was going on with him? Guinevere asked herself, for what seemed like the millionth time. Was he just stressed because of work, or was there something else? She had no idea.

Guinevere thought about the children, wondering if they'd had a good night with their grandfather. It wasn't Uther's ability to look after them she worried about. Uther adored his grandchildren, she knew that. He looked after them all the time after school and helped out in the school holidays, taking them out on trips and filling their days if she couldn't organise her working hours around them. The children adored their grandfather too. They had no memory of the remote, aloof character Uther used to be, or the hard businessman he turned himself into to hide his feelings. To Amhar and Llacheu Uther was a loving, attentive, indulgent grandfather who doted on them, but they'd never spent a night with him before, or been anywhere away from home without her or Arthur. She told herself they'd probably been fine. Uther was good at occupying them and had probably filled every minute he had with them, but there was always bedtime. Would Uther have tucked them in as they were used to, would he have consoled them if they'd been upset? Suddenly a wave of worrying about them came over her.

Just as Guinevere's worry for the children began to grow in her mind and images of Llacheu and Amhar crying themselves to sleep for her began to establish themselves in her head, there was a groan from the chair beside the bed.

'MmmmmOhhh.' Arthur's chin began to rise from his chest and he moaned in discomfort. His eyes fluttered open and one of his hands went to the back of his neck. "Ow," he pulled a face.

Holding back a smile, Guinevere rolled her eyes. "I told you, you should have gone home. You could have slept in our bed and been fine this morning, but now look at you,"she chided him gently.

"I'm...ow...fine...ow," Arthur still held a hand to the back of his neck and rotated his head from side to side to work out the stiffness in his muscles. "I'll be fine...in a minute." He got up out of the chair slowly and hesitantly stretched his muscles out a bit more.

"You don't look fine," Guinevere allowed a smile to creep over her lips. "I bet I look fitter than you this morning."

As Arthur moved, the muscles that had protested so much from spending a night in an uncomfortable chair, began to ease. He stepped towards Guinevere's bedside and leaned towards her. "You look beautiful, you always do," he kissed her on the lips. Easing back after a moment, he studied every detail of Guinevere's face. "How are you feeling?"

Guinevere thought before she answered. She still felt sore. The truth was, she ached everywhere. It wasn't like the pain she had before she collapsed at work, but she was aware of feeling tired and sore, a bit like a person when they have flu. Her abdomen was still tender. Every time she moved she could feel the stitches in her wound stretching. She was also aware of another feeling; she could still sense the way her body was beginning to change with her pregnancy. She heaved a sigh, "I still feel pregnant," she admitted, biting her lip to hold back the wave of emotion the realisation brought. "I'm sure it's just the hormones, but I still feel pregnant." Her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Oh, Guinevere," Arthur leaned over and put his arms around Guinevere as well as he could as she lay in the hospital bed.

Arthur and Guinevere eased out of each other's arms when the nurse came into the room with Guinevere's pain relief. Prompted by Arthur because she didn't want to bother the nurse unnecessarily, Guinevere admitted to how she was feeling.

"It is quite normal to feel like that," the nurse nodded sympathetically when Guinevere stopped talking. "You have all sorts of aches and pains because of your surgery. Your body has been through a trauma and it needs time to recover. You'll feel fatigued because your body is trying to put all its energies into getting you better, but also because of what you've been through. On top of that, your hormones will be all over the place. It is normal, but I know, that's not much help to you at the moment."

"Will it get better?" Arthur's voice reflected the concern in his eyes.

The nurse nodded and then turned her attention to Guinevere again. "We'll keep an eye on your hormone levels, just to make sure they are falling as they should. We'll continue your pain relief, probably in tablet form now you're more awake. We'll give you painkillers to take when you go home too. The rest just takes time. You'll need plenty of rest when you go home, so no housework or strenuous exercise for a while. You won't be allowed to lift anything heavy while your abdomen is recovering, not even a kettle. You need to give yourself time to recover, physically and emotionally, and you'll need lots of support." At that the nurse eyed Arthur meaningfully.

Assailed by guilt over the way he'd behaved towards Guinevere for months, Arthur bowed his head for a moment. He vowed to himself he was going to do whatever it took to get Guinevere better and he would sort out his problems, whatever he had to do. He raised his head when he felt Guinevere's hand in his hair. She caressed the hair at the nape of his neck tenderly and he looked up at her, before turning his attention back to the nurse and nodding to confirm the commitment he'd just made.

Before the nurse left the room, she helped Guinevere to sit up in bed a bit more. Whilst Arthur supported Guinevere so that she didn't stretch her sore abdomen too much, the nurse moved Guinevere's pillows and opened up a back rest that attached to the head of the bed. When this was opened up, she arranged Guinevere's pillows into a rough triangle shape and then supported Guinevere while she leaned back.

"Is that comfortable?" the nurse checked. "I can rearrange your pillows more if you need it, and after breakfast we can help you have a wash. It might make you feel more comfortable. You might be able to have a shower tomorrow, but for today we can give you a hand to have a wash where you are."

Guinevere smiled in gratitude. "It's lovely and comfortable, thank you. I can see you a bit better now." She smiled at Arthur brightly and he squeezed her left hand. She turned her attention back to the nurse. "I'd love a wash, I do feel a bit..." she left the rest of what she was about to say hanging in the air. The nurse nodded in understanding and then left the room.

A short time later breakfast was brought round. Guinevere ate a bit of cereal sparingly, but enjoyed a cup of tea. The auburn-haired nurse they'd met the day before appeared to help Guinevere with her wash after breakfast. Arthur didn't really want to leave Guinevere alone, but he felt in the way when the nurse came in carrying a bowl of water. He got Guinevere's case out and found the toiletries, towel and things he'd found with Llacheu the previous day, but then he lingered near the door, unsure of what to do with himself.

"Why don't you go and get some breakfast?" Guinevere turned to look at Arthur by the door while the nurse arranged the things she needed for her wash. "I'll be all right for a while, go and have something to eat. You didn't eat much for dinner last night, you must be starving."

Arthur thought of the previous night. He'd had a quick sandwich he'd barely been able to taste because he was so worried about Guinevere and wanted to get back to her as soon as possible. Now he felt a bit nauseous, but was it because he was hungry? Making up his mind, he told Guinevere he wouldn't be long and made his way to the hospital canteen.

"Take your time, it's not as if I'm going anywhere," Guinevere giggled as he left the room and his heart lifted to hear her.

Leaving the room and walking out of the gynaecology department, Arthur found a quiet corner. Grabbing his mobile phone from his belt, where it had been since the previous day, he dialled his father's number.

"Arthur?" Uther answered the call quickly and sounded worried. "Where are you, how is Guinevere?"

Arthur sighed heavily. "I'm still at the hospital with Guinevere. She's still sore father, she's still on pain relief and they said they'll send her home in five days with something for the pain. She still seems tired, but she seems quite bright, all things considered. She's being so strong father, she's amazing."

Arthur could almost feel his father's relieved smile down the phone line. "She's a remarkable young woman, I'm glad she's bearing up," the older man said. "I know it can't be easy for her, for either of you, to lose another baby, but you'll get through it."

"Father," Arthur went on, he had no idea what to say in reply to his father's words. "I was calling about the children, were they all right last night? Guinevere's having a wash at the moment, so while one of the nurses is with her I thought I'd call and check on the children. It might ease Guinevere's mind to know they're all right."

"They were fine, tell Guinevere not to worry," Uther said, assuredly. "Amhar got a little bit upset at bedtime, probably because of the change in her usual routine, but once she'd got George and was settled, she was fine. I checked on them both in the night and they slept right through. I got them to school on time this morning and I let the schools know you'd be picking them up later, all right?"

"Thanks father," Arthur replied, feeling relieved, before he had another thought. "Did you manage to speak to Tom?" He couldn't help the nervous edge in his voice.

"I phoned after I'd had dinner with the children," Uther replied.

"What did he say," Arthur asked, though he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know. He knew if Amhar was older and married, he'd have a few things to say to her husband if he treated her as he'd treated Guinevere.

Uther sighed and Arthur's heart sank while he waited for Tom's judgement of his character. "He says you're a bloody fool, which I can't say I disagreed with."

"Neither can I," Arthur conceded, his guilt coming over him again. "What else did he say, does he want to string me up?"

Uther heaved a sigh. "He was worried about Guinevere, naturally. He told me to tell you to look after her, and he's asked me to bring him to see her, so I don't know whether you want me to bring him to the hospital or to wait until she's home, what do you think?"

Arthur considered. He knew he'd got off lightly from Tom. He'd imagined Guinevere's father tearing strips off him for his behaviour. Part of him was wondering if Tom was waiting to have a go at him in person, rather than second hand, but he pushed the thought aside, knowing if Tom did have something to say to him, he had no one to blame but himself.

"It might give Guinevere a boost to see her Dad," Arthur answered his father's question after thinking for a moment. "Why don't you bring him to the hospital tomorrow evening at visiting time, or maybe during the day, if that would suit Tom better? I could make sure it would be all right, they don't seem too tight on the rules where Guinevere is."

Uther seemed to think things over for a moment. "If you've got the children at home tomorrow, are you going to spend some time with Guinevere after you've taken them to school?"

Without thinking, Arthur nodded. "I have to speak to Guinevere's boss and make arrangements to pick up her car from where she left it yesterday, but yes, when I've done that I'm coming in to see Guinevere until the children finish school, why?"

"Well," Uther went on, explaining what he had on mind. "If you take the children to school, I could pick them up as usual at the end of the day. They would get some normal routine and you would get a bit longer with Guinevere. You could pick the children up from here when you're ready, but while you spend some time with the children, I could take Tom to see Guinevere, that way she wouldn't be on her own for long. I'd still come and sit with the children if you need me to on the evening, while you visit Guinevere, what do you think?"

"Are you sure it wouldn't be any trouble?" Arthur asked. If he was honest, he was amazed by how helpful his father was being. After their words the day before, Arthur wouldn't have been surprised if his father had been difficult, but he was the exact opposite. He didn't seem to be able to do enough to help.

"It's no trouble, Arthur," Uther said decisively. "You're my son, I want to help you. Guinevere is the closest thing to a daughter I'll ever have, the children are my grandchildren, which goes without saying, and Tom is a friend, so it's no trouble."

"Thank you," Arthur said, meaning it wholeheartedly. "I'll let you know when I'm on my way to pick the children up from your house. I'll give the children some dinner and then, if you're sure, you can sit with the children while I come back to see Guinevere."

"I've already said, I'm quite sure," Uther said firmly. "I'll see you later when I come to sit with the children this evening. Don't forget, you're picking them up from school later."

"I won't forget father," Arthur rolled his eyes. "See you later."

Reassured about the children and with something positive to tell Guinevere, Arthur hung up and put his mobile phone back on his belt. Feeling lighter than he had for a while, he made his way to the canteen.

"Your husband is very attentive," the petite nurse said, continuing to prepare the things Guinevere needed for her wash after Arthur had left them alone.

Guinevere sighed thoughtfully. "He is now, but we've been having a bit of a rough time and I don't quite know why. He says it's over now and I believe him, I do, but part of me keeps expecting him to say he needs to go back to work."

The nurse nodded in understanding. "What does he do?" She tried to ask the question in a way that sounded like she was interested, but she wasn't prying. It didn't do to pry into patients private affairs, she knew that, but she was aware enough to know that chatting while carrying out personal tasks like washing and dressing could break the ice and make the atmosphere a lot more comfortable.

A half smile crossed Guinevere's lips. "He's an estate agent, he owns Pendragon Homes. He took it on from my father in law when he retired a few years ago."

"Of course," the nurse's eyes shone and she nodded enthusiastically. "I've been trying to work out where I'd seen your husband before, well now I know!"

Guinevere's face cracked into a wider smile and she rolled her eyes theatrically. "Don't tell me, he sold you a house, didn't he?"

The nurse laughed and nodded. "I got married just a short time before I qualified as a nurse, about four years ago now. With my husband's salary and mine, we were able to put enough together for a deposit on a house, just a small place really, but it's ours," she smiled warmly. "A great big blonde bloke handled the sale, but we spoke to your husband a few times when we called in to the estate agents. He seemed nice."

Guinevere nodded in appreciation of the nurse's compliment to Arthur. "He is nice," she said, her voice holding a hint of sarcasm. "When he's not being an idiot, he can be lovely. It's just when he is an idiot, that's the problem."

The nurse nodded wisely. "I know what you mean. I wouldn't change my husband for the world, but sometimes...My father too," she added as an afterthought. "It must be a male thing." She grinned cheekily and then her face straightened. "Actually, I don't tell many people, but you've met my father, he did your surgery yesterday."

Guinevere's eyes widened in surprise. "Mr. Louden is your father?" she asked, studying the nurse's features for some resemblance to the surgeon. Something in the eyes suggested a similarity, but whereas the surgeon was tall, the nurse was small, with delicate features.

The nurse grinned and nodded her head. "He is, for my sins. I'm just glad I look more like my mother, or I'd never be able to keep it from people. My brother is a training to be a doctor in Scotland. He moved away because here he felt like Geoffrey Louden's son, not Andrew Louden, medical student. He's the image of our father too, so it's not easy for him."

Guinevere sighed in understanding. "My husband's father treated him like an employee for years, not a business partner. It's taken Arthur years to find himself and become his own man, not just an extension of his father, but sometimes, lately, I've seen a side of Arthur that's so much like the way Uther used to be, it's like history is repeating itself."

Not knowing what to say to that, the nurse, who volunteered that her name was Jackie when she went into Guinevere's room with the bowl of water in her hand and an inclination of her head to the name tag on her uniform, changed the subject. Keeping a light-hearted tone, she turned her attention to her work. "We'd better get on, or your husband will be back and I'll have the ward Sister after me. I've been told to get you out of bed today, and check on your wound, so we'll do that first, all right?"

Just under forty minutes later, Arthur made his way back to Guinevere's room. He'd eaten some cereal and toast and had drunk a cup of tea. He felt more awake than when he left Guinevere's room, but he was starting to worry about her again. Seeing her look so small and fragile the previous day had frightened the life out of him. He couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt over the way he'd been treating her for months, or the thought of what might have happened to her if she hadn't got to the hospital in time. All the what ifs still coursed through his mind. What if she'd been alone when she collapsed, how soon would it have been before someone found her? What if she'd fainted in her car on the way to work? How had she even managed to drive at all in the state she must have been in? What if he'd lost her, how would he have lived without her, how would he have brought the children up on his own? How would he have sorted out the mess he was in if he'd had two children to see to on his own, without Guinevere's presence to guide him through the darkest times, because if Arthur knew anything at all about his wife, he knew that even though he'd spent months pushing her away, her constant presence in his life made him feel secure. From the time they'd met and fallen in love, Guinevere's love had made Arthur feel worth something, made him feel like he could do anything, be anything, because she was there. How could he have thrown that back in her face, all because he was frightened of what the future might hold?

Reaching the door to Guinevere's room, Arthur peeked through the glass panel in the door. He couldn't see Guinevere in the bed and his heart began to thud. Was something wrong, where was she? He tried to see further around the room, to see if she'd fallen out of bed or something, but the glass in the door wasn't big enough. His heart racing, he pushed the door open.

"You look a bit pale, are you all right?" Guinevere greeted Arthur from the leather chair he'd slept in. She was dressed in one of her own nightshirts, a thin summer dressing gown and a pair of fluffy slippers he'd brought from home.

Arthur's heart began to slow to a regular rhythm and he heaved a relieved sigh. "I looked through the glass in the door to make sure you'd finished with the nurse," he explained, moving closer to Guinevere and sitting down on the side of her freshly made bed. "I couldn't see you in the chair from the door, I wondered where you were, that's all."

Guinevere frowned, her brow forming deep lines of concern. "Were you worried about me?"

"Of course I was worried about you," Arthur made no attempt to hide how he felt, he knew his face would give him away, and in any case, Guinevere never missed anything. He suddenly wondered how he'd managed to keep the truth from her for months, knowing she could read him like a book, but then all the time he'd spent away from her washed over him and he knew. Guinevere knew something was wrong, she'd worked out that much on her own, but he hadn't spent enough time with her for months to let her work out what the problem was, and that was his fault, just as the mess they were in was his fault.

"I'm sorry you were worried," Guinevere sighed, looking into Arthur's eyes. "The nurse, Jackie, was told to get me out of bed today, that's all." She looked up at him solemnly as he sat on the side of her bed. "I'm not going anywhere, Arthur, you don't need to worry about me, I feel much better today, honestly." She allowed a hint of a tender smile to creep over her lips..

Arthur leaned forward and gazed into the tenderness in Guinevere's eyes. "Good, I'm very glad to hear it, I love you, Guinevere." He leaned further forward and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips, trying to show her with his actions, because he couldn't find the words, what she meant to him. In his soul Arthur knew, if he'd lost Guinevere he wouldn't have survived without her. As much as he knew he adored the children and they would have needed him, he was honest enough with himself to know, life without Guinevere would have been unthinkable, he just wasn't strong enough on his own. He needed Guinevere like he needed air to breathe, it was that simple and he'd always known it, but he'd allowed himself to forget for months. He knew he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Pulling back slowly after a moment, something caught Arthur's eye. Guinevere's right hand was no longer attached to a drip. She had a small white dressing taped to her hand, but the drip was gone and the stand it had hung from was nowhere in sight. "Your drip is gone," he stated the obvious and smiled.

Guinevere nodded and pulled a face. "Do you know how painful those things are to remove?"she asked, her face animated, her eyes shining brightly. The tender expression from a moment before lingered in her gaze, in spite of her tone. "It was almost as painful as the bloody stitches."

Arthur sighed sympathetically and changed the subject. "So, you're out of bed, how did that go?"

The tenderness in Guinevere's eyes slipped away and she pulled a face. "It was sore, I felt like I hadn't moved for weeks, not just a day." Her face fell further. "Jackie took the dressing off my wound from the surgery today. She needed to check it, just to make sure there's no infection."

"And?" Arthur asked anxiously, noting the way Guinevere's face had suddenly become a mask of worry and she was chewing on her lip in distraction. "Is it infected?"

Guinevere shook her head and relief washed over Arthur. "No, but..." Guinevere spoke softly, a hint of tears in her voice, before going back to chewing on her lip.

"What is it, tell me?" Arthur demanded, fighting an urge to panic. "Tell me, please," he repeated, trying to keep calm.

Guinevere heaved a shuddering sigh and put her hand to her abdomen in discomfort. She looked up at Arthur and her eyes filled with tears. "I asked Jackie to show me my scar. I know Mr. Louden said it's fifteen centimetres long, but I don't think I realised how big that would be, or what it would look like. It's all pink and raised, a bit like a burn, but not quite. The stitches look awful. The scare is on my bikini line. Jackie said it will settle down over time. She said it'll flatten out and fade, a bit like when I had stretch marks when I was pregnant with the children, but it looks horrible now."

Arthur knew Guinevere wasn't vain. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, both inside and out, but it was as if she had no idea, which, of course, made her all the more beautiful. She looked after her appearance, always dressed properly and smartly. She said it was a sign of respect for other people, to look smart and presentable. She said it was a habit she'd picked up from work, because it brought her into contact with people she didn't know, so first impressions mattered. She always insisted on being clean and tidy for work, because she firmly believed that if she didn't look presentable she would give the idea that she couldn't look after herself, so how could she then be expected to be trusted to look after someone else, especially someone who was vulnerable?

Arthur's mind went back over the past, to the time just after Gwydre was born and Guinevere was self conscious over the changes pregnancy had brought to her body. When they made love she didn't like him seeing her. He remembered the way she would cross her arms over her breasts, trying to hide them from his eyes. It had taken him years to find the words Guinevere needed to hear. For ages he'd given her platitudes, tried to tell her she hadn't been fat as she thought, she'd been pregnant. It was only after they were putting themselves back together after Gwydre died that he realised his mistake. He'd assured her the way he felt about her was nothing to do with her looks, it was her and everything she was. Did she doubt him again now? He didn't even need to ask the question. He saw the answer in her eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat while he considered what to say and then, looking into Guinevere's tear-filled eyes, he spoke. "Your scar won't make any difference, not to me."

Guinevere shook her head and her tears started to fall silently down her cheeks. "You say that now, but you've barely wanted me for months as it is, have you? The last time we made love I had to practically talk you in to it and you weren't exactly enthusiastic then, were you? It's incredible I got pregnant at all really, considering it was like being with a block of ice. You never even kissed me Arthur, not once. If you didn't want me without a great big scar across my abdomen, you won't want me with one, will you?"

Arthur was stunned by the bitterness in Guinevere's tone, but watching her in such distress while she tried to hold her abdomen to stop it being disturbed by her silent sobbing broke his heart. With tears in his own eyes, he got to his feet and knelt at Guinevere's side on the tiled floor of the room. Pain went through his knees as they complained about taking his weight on the hard, cold floor, but it was nothing to the agony that shot through him when she released a huff of something that was too disbelieving to be laughter and looked away from him. Arthur knew without Guinevere even saying a word, she didn't believe a word he said, and that was entirely his own fault. "Look at me," he said brokenly, trying to hold back his own tears. "Please, look at me."

Reluctantly, Guinevere turned her head towards Arthur and looked him in the eyes. She saw the pain in his gaze, but couldn't bring herself to take back what she'd said to him, even if every instinct she had wanted to. She knew they needed to have this out now, this, if nothing else, before it had a chance to drive a wedge between them.

Suddenly Arthur was transported back years, to sitting on a hillside by a waterfall in Wales, while he admitted to Guinevere he applied for a divorce after their relationship fell apart when Gwydre died. He'd struggled to find the right words to begin then, to find the words to explain his inexplicable actions. Now, after all those years, after all the effort they'd made to rebuild their relationship and they'd started again together, building a new life with Llacheu and Amhar, he'd failed her again because he was frightened of losing her. How could he do that to her again? He had no idea, but he knew how to fix it, or at least, he knew how to begin. Clearing his throat again, he reached towards Guinevere and took one of her hands in his. He held it tightly over the racing of his heart and looked her deeply in the eyes. "I know I've hurt you again," he admitted, his voice low. He never took his eyes off her face, wouldn't allow himself to bow his head in shame as it consumed him when he saw the tears flowing from her eyes and the tear tracks on her skin. "I promised you once I would never let you down again and I have, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Guinevere heaved a shuddering sigh and the hand that was still against the scar on her abdomen pressed down a little more firmly, but she didn't speak, so Arthur went on. "I've been a fool, Guinevere, a stupid, blind, fool, but I never stopped loving you. I never stopped wanting you either, I swear."

Guinevere swallowed hard on her tears and found her voice. "So why did you push me away then, Arthur? Surely you must have known you were hurting me?"

His shame overflowing from his eyes at last, Arthur nodded. "I suppose I did know, somewhere in my mind, but I was too wrapped up in my problems to think about you or the children. I'm so sorry."

Guinevere nodded, but Arthur could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She was still weeping softly, but tried to gather herself to speak again. "Is that why you've barely been able to bring yourself to touch me for months? Is that why, the last time, it was like trying to make love to an iceberg while I humiliated myself trying to get you interested? I did everything for you, Arthur. I did everything I could think of, but you just stood there and gave me nothing, like _I_ was some cheap bit of nothing you'd picked up. How could you do that to me?" She suddenly sobbed harder and Arthur could see the physical pain it caused her, on top of the anguish his actions had caused. "Bloody hell!" She exclaimed after a moment. "I can't even cry properly without being in bloody agony!"

Arthur went to let her hand go and get to his feet to press the buzzer for some pain relief for her, but Guinevere took the hand he'd released and pushed down on his shoulder, effectively holding him down on his knees. She didn't use any strength, Arthur knew he could have still got up if he'd wanted to, but he stayed on his knees. He knew had some explaining to do, a _lot_ of explaining.

"I can't tell you all of it," Arthur started to talk again, forcing himself to keep looking at the pain in Guinevere's eyes, pain that, in one way or another, was his fault. "I will," he added urgently, seeing the frown that formed on her face when he spoke. "I promise you, what I said to you yesterday was true. When you're home and a bit stronger, we will sit down and I will tell you everything." He went on, his voice full of contrition. "I've been tired and stressed out, Guinevere. I pushed you away, emotionally, physically, because I was tired and frightened, but I didn't want you to know I was tired and frightened, so I pushed you away even more." He silently willed her not to ask why he was frightened and was grateful beyond words when she seemed to get the message. She sat silently and waited for him to go on. "I've been a fool, a cowardly fool, but I never stopped loving you. I will love you until the day I die, Guinevere. I will love you and want you until the end of my days, and I don't care about a scar." He deliberately took Guinevere's hand in his again, the hand she'd used to push him back down to his knees. He took it in his and held it firmly against his heart. "When Lance phoned yesterday," he was weeping again at the memory. "When I realised what he was saying to me about how ill you were, I..." For a moment he couldn't speak as his emotions caught up with him. He sobbed harder when Guinevere's hand against his heart began to stroke his chest tenderly. He cried for a moment and then tried to find his voice again. "God, Guinevere," he said, still crying, edging closer as if on auto-pilot when the soothing strokes of her hand against his heart continued. "If I'd lost you, I..." He broke down, unable to put into words what losing her would have meant to him.

"Shh," Guinevere soothed softly, through her own tears. "Shh now, I'm all right, we'll be all right." She tried to lean towards him in her seat, but the discomfort she was feeling from getting so upset restricted her movement too much. Without a word, Arthur understood what she was trying to do and edged towards her. Hardly able to believe it was happening, he moved closer, until he felt Guinevere's arms sliding around him. Edging closer, he leaned his head on her shoulder. Holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her even more, Arthur Pendragon clung to his wife and wept.


	14. Chapter 14

**My thanks, as always, to those of you who left reviews for the previous chapter, but also for your comments about what I had to say. I don't like complaining about readers, I felt a bit uncomfortable about saying anything, but I feel saying something has helped, so I'm glad. Your continued support is appreciated, along with your enthusiasm for the story, so I am glad to have cleared the air.**

 **We are on the home stretch of my story. We are not there yet, I have a clear ending in mind we haven't yet reached, but it isn't too far away. In the meantime I will let you know I tweaked a word or two in chapter thirteen and now I will move on with chapter 14. My thanks again for all your support.**

Guinevere remained in hospital for five days. Arthur spent every moment he could with her. When he wasn't with Guinevere he was with the children. The time away from work gave him some perspective on how hard Guinevere had worked on her own for months. He was amazed by how she'd managed to juggle the children, running the house smoothly and her job. All he had to do was see to the children when his father didn't have them with him or they weren't at school, whilst also spending as much time as possible with Guinevere, and he was exhausted. He silently vowed he wouldn't take what she did for granted again and he would try to do as much as possible to share the load.

Clearing the air between them had done Arthur and Guinevere good. Arthur knew he still had to tell Guinevere everything and he felt the weight of that keenly, but he felt as if he'd opened the door to her again. The miracle, as far as he was concerned, was that she still wanted to be near him after everything he'd done. He hoped that would still be the case when he told her everything.

After opening themselves up to each other on the day after Guinevere's surgery, Arthur and Guinevere spent the day quietly together. They spent the day talking in a way they hadn't for months. They were only interrupted occasionally, when nurses went into Guinevere's room to check on her and see if there was anything she needed. When, at one stage in the day, one of the nurses came in and said she'd been asked to come and get Guinevere up on her feet and walking a bit, Arthur stood back out of the way, watching helplessly as the nurse helped Guinevere to stand and then supported her to take a few hesitant steps. Arthur watched as Guinevere's face contorted under the effort she made to walk a short distance across the space of her room, leaning on the nurse's arm for support. He saw the beads of sweat as they formed on her skin and wished he could take the pain away.

When she was settled back down on the armchair by her bed, Guinevere took a deep breath and sighed. "That was hard work," she breathed heavily as she spoke. "I never realised before how much effort we put into walking."

"You did very well," the nurse, the redhead Guinevere knew well by now, smiled brightly. "Now you've had a walk around your strength will come back over the next few days. You won't be able to stand for long even when you go home, but you will gain your strength back over time. It'll help in a few days when your stitches come out. That'll make walking more comfortable."

When the nurse was gone and they were alone, Arthur sat on the side of Guinevere's bed. "I hate watching you struggling and in pain," he sighed heavily. "I feel so helpless because I can't do anything for you."

"You are doing something for me," Guinevere insisted, looking into Arthur's eyes steadily. "You're here, Arthur, that means more to me than anything. When I collapsed, my last thought was to wonder if you would care enough to come home." She looked down at her hands in her lap as she spoke, feeling guilty for admitting her doubt in him.

Leaning forward, Arthur placed a gentle finger under Guinevere's chin and tilted her head until he could see into her eyes and then he cupped her cheek in his hand. "You have every right to doubt me," he admitted, hating himself for the way he'd let her down so badly. "If I could go back in time and do things differently, I would do it in a moment, but I would have come home to you, I swear, and I will be with you every step of the way while you're getting better. I'll take on site managers, I'll delegate work better, but I will be with you, you do believe me, don't you?"

Guinevere could see the truth of what Arthur said in his eyes. Nodding, she turned her head slightly, dropped a kiss into the palm of his hand against her cheek and smiled when she felt him shiver in response to her touch.

Late in the afternoon, Arthur reluctantly left Guinevere to go and pick up the children from school. He dragged himself away a little earlier than he needed to. He explained to Guinevere he needed to make arrangements to get her car picked up from where she'd had to leave it when she was taken ill. He also tentatively explained he'd had a falling out with Gwaine he needed to put right.

"What did you fall out with Gwaine about?" Guinevere frowned deeply.

"You," Arthur said simply, not seeing the point in denying it. "On the day I made a fool of myself over you and Lance, I went to the restaurant. I don't know why I went really, other than you telling the children I needed to go out probably put it in my mind and I'd told the children I was going. I also probably planned to get very drunk," he admitted ruefully. 'I said some things I shouldn't have said and Gwaine lost his temper with me. In the end he threw me out."

"Sefa phoned later that day," Guinevere shook her head as she spoke. "She said she'd spoken to Gwaine when she was at work. He'd phoned her because he was worried about you. She said you'd had a couple of drinks and you were driving, so she phoned to see if you were at home."

Arthur nodded, all the mess he'd made for months striking him again. He'd hurt Guinevere, he'd unsettled his children and he'd had a stupid row with his best friend, for what? It all seemed really stupid now, even to his own ears.

"So, you're going to sort it out with Gwaine?" Guinevere asked, her eyes filled with worry. "You've been friends for too long to let a silly argument come between you. Just be honest with him," she advised thoughtfully. "Just don't get into another argument while you're making it up, that's all, or you'll never get anywhere. I know you both," she warned, fixing Arthur with her gaze as he stood at the side of the leather chair by her hospital bed. "You're both stubborn and you both like to be right, but that won't sort things out. Be wrong, Arthur. If it makes it up with Gwaine, be in the wrong for once, please."

Arthur nodded, listening to what Guinevere said. "You're right," he bent towards her as he spoke and kissed her softly on the lips. "It won't be difficult to be in the wrong," he admitted, standing upright as he spoke. "I was in the wrong, I said some stupid things because I was jealous and Gwaine was looking out for you. He thinks the world of you, you know?"

Guinevere nodded. "I know he does, but he thinks the world of you too, don't forget that and make it up with him."

"I will, I promise. Now, is there anything you need before I go?" Arthur glanced around the room to make sure anything Guinevere might need was in her reach before he left her.

"Could you help me back on to the bed, I feel a bit tired, but I don't want to pester the nurses for a while?" Guinevere smothered a yawn as she spoke.

Moving so that he stood in front of Guinevere now, Arthur took her by the hands and helped her to her feet carefully. When she was upright she looked up into his eyes and he felt a rush of love for her. He stepped closer and slipped his arms gently around her waist. Looking down into the dark pools of her eyes, Arthur sighed heavily. "I love you more than anything else in the world you know, you do know that?"

Hearing the intensity in his voice, Guinevere nodded slowly and slid her arms around Arthur's waist, holding him as close as she comfortably could. "I know you do, and I love you, Arthur. You and the children, you're everything to me, you know?"

Feeling as though he could breath properly for the first time for ages, Arthur released a shaky breath and nodded. "I know, I've always known really, but sometimes it's hard to believe my luck."

Guinevere smiled tenderly up at him. "Well you'd better get used to it, because I have no intention of going anywhere."

Arthur grinned and held Guinevere a little tighter. "Good." He kissed her again, relishing the feeling of her being in his arms. When they parted after a moment, Arthur helped Guinevere back to bed and made sure she was comfortable. "I'll have dinner with the children and then I'll be back this evening. My father is going to childmind."

Guinevere frowned. "Are you sure, he had the children all night last night, will he want them this evening as well?"

Arthur smiled and nodded. "He practically insisted. We've agreed that I'll go home tonight and be with the children for a while, but he'll come to ours later to sit with the children while I come and see you. I'll take the children to school tomorrow and he'll pick them up after school as usual, to give them a more normal routine and so I can spend time here, with you, but he said he would still have them tomorrow evening if I need him to, so that I can come back and sit with you for a while."

To Arthur's surprise, Guinevere's face fell. "I was hoping you might bring the children with you tomorrow evening, even if it's just for a while. I'm grateful for your father's thoughtfulness," she added quickly, seeing the way Arthur's brows arched in surprise. "I just miss them, that's all, and I feel well enough to see them now. Now I don't have the drip," she wiggled the fingers on her right hand for emphasis, "there's nothing in here for them to worry about, so I was hoping you might bring them with you tomorrow evening, before they have to go to bed."

Arthur considered what Guinevere said for a moment. "Are you certain you feel well enough?"

Guinevere nodded eagerly. "I feel fine, apart from still feeling sore. I really want to see them, Arthur, please?"

Seeing the eagerness in Guinevere's eyes, Arthur nodded. "I'll let my father know I won't need him to sit with the children tomorrow evening. I'll give them some dinner and then we'll come and visit you. The children will be glad to see you."

"Your father won't mind, it won't hurt his feelings?" Guinevere's eyes showed her concern. She got on well with her father in law now, she reasoned, remembering a time when he kept her at arms length and treated her like an outsider. She didn't want to risk upsetting him, not if it could be avoided.

Arthur shook his head. "My father won't mind, he'll be glad to know you're feeling better. He's been worried about you." He was tempted for a moment to tell her that Uther was going to bring Tom, Guinevere's father, to see her tomorrow too, but he kept it to himself, sensing the surprise might do her good.

A short time later, after another quick kiss, Arthur left Guinevere alone, reminding her he would be back later, while his father sat with the children. Once he was back to his car he quickly phoned Guinevere's boss, Hunith, to ask her where Guinevere was when she was taken ill.

Hunith gave Arthur the information he needed and then asked after Guinevere. "We were all very worried when Lance told us what had happened," she explained, in her usual kindly manner. "I've been trying to find a moment to call you, but I didn't want to pry while Gwen was very poorly."

Arthur sighed and the memories from the previous day came flooding back, the fear he felt when he was driving back from Warwickshire, and then when he saw Guinevere looking so small and fragile in the hospital bed. "She's doing much better now," he reminded himself of the fact as he spoke to Hunith. "She had very bad internal bleeding, the surgeon said she was very seriously ill when she got here, but she's doing well now, apart from being sore and getting tired quite quickly. Did Lance explain, we lost a baby, it was an ectopic pregnancy?"

Arthur heard a sharp gasp down the phone as Hunith took in the seriousness of the situation Guinevere had been in. "Lance said Gwen looked very ill, but he said they wouldn't tell him much because he isn't family. Thank God Gwen got to the hospital when she did, I'm so glad she's getting better, but I am sorry for your loss, everyone at Camelot Care would want me to pass on our best wishes to you both. Gwen is very highly thought of, do tell her that, and tell her not to rush back to work."

"They said she'll need at least six weeks to recover from the surgery." Arthur was touched by what Hunith had to say and made a mental note to remember to tell Guinevere. "They said she won't even be able to lift a kettle for a while, so she will be off work for some time."

"Tell Gwen not to concern herself with that," Hunith replied thoughtfully. "Just tell her to take care and get better. Her clients are being well looked after and they'll all look forward to seeing her when she's better."

After a few quick pleasantries, the call ended and Arthur used his mobile phone again to call a local garage who would be able to pick up Guinevere's car and tow it back home. Relieved when that was done and knowing Guinevere's beloved car would be picked up by the end of the next day, Arthur set off to pick up Amhar from pre-school.

On arriving at the building where his daughter attended pre-school, Arthur went inside and went to the small office just inside the building. He knocked on the half-opened door to the office and when invited to come in, he entered. He saw a young woman with short, spikey brown hair who was doing some work at a computer desk in front of her. Her eyes, which were magnified by large, round glasses, scanned the screen in front of her, until she turned and smiled widely at her visitor. "How can I help you?" she asked politely, just as the bell rang to signal the end of the school day.

"I've come to pick up my daughter, Amhar Pendragon," Arthur explained above the sound of the bell. "My father usually picks her up, but we've had a bit of a change of plan today. I believe he mentioned this morning, my wife was rushed into hospital yesterday for emergency surgery, so it's all hands on deck today."

"Oh, I see, of course." She closed down the document on the computer she was working on and opened another one, which she checked closely before looking back up at Arthur. On establishing that he was who he claimed to be, she gave Arthur directions to get to the main school hall, where all the parents picked up their children at the end of each school day.

When Arthur reached the school hall, a large room at the centre of the building with an arched ceiling that had skylights running down the middle to let the light in, and polished wooden floors, the other parents were already starting to gather. He watched as the parents who clearly knew one another congregated in groups to talk while they waited for their children to appear. He wondered for a moment if his father ever chatted with anyone while he waited for Amhar, or if he kept himself to himself. Arthur was distracted from his thoughts a moment later when he heard a cry. "Daddy!' a familiar voice called out and then Arthur spotted a tall woman with shoulder length blonde hair. He looked to the left of the woman and spotted Amhar holding the woman's hand as she walked towards him. She was wearing her school uniform, a grey pinafore dress over a white t-shirt, with a navy blue cardigan. She carried her school bag on her back and in her hand was a very worn looking teddy bear. Arthur remembered grabbing some things for the children's school bags quickly with Llacheu when he went to pick up some things for Guinevere and the children from home. Arthur had thought about the things they needed for their overnight stay at their grandfather's, carefully making sure they had pyjamas and night shirts, whilst Llacheu reminded him they would need school uniforms too. Arthur couldn't help thinking now that Guinevere would have been impressed that Amhar was so smartly dressed, her shoes were bright and clean and her hair was neat and tidy.

"Daddy!" Amhar called out again, finally releasing the woman's hand and running across half of the school hall to get to her father. Arthur knelt and caught his daughter in his arms as she ran to him and threw her arms around him. It was only when she was close that he saw her eyes were red-rimmed.

Amhar held on to her father as tightly as she could. The only thing between them was her teddy bear, which was squashed up against Arthur's chest as he got to his feet with daughter in his arms.

"Mr. Pendragon?" The blonde woman spoke to him. "I'm Mrs Hargreaves, Amhar's teacher." She offered her left hand to Arthur, who made sure he was holding Amhar tightly in his left arm as she sat on his hip and reached out to shake the teacher's hand with his right hand. Amhar still clung to him tightly, showing no signs of letting him go. "Amhar got a bit upset earlier," the teacher explained quietly, stepping closer to Arthur to lower her voice now that the hall was filled with parents reuniting with their children. "She was a little bit worried no one would come and collect her."

Arthur nodded and eased Amhar out of his arms to look at her. "I wouldn't forget you," he tried to assure her gently. "Didn't Grandpa remind you I was coming to pick you up?"

Amhar nodded and her top lip wobbled. "I thought you might have to go away again and you'd forget me."

Seeing Amhar's distress, Arthur hugged her close again and closed his eyes for a moment as guilt shot through him. He opened his eyes a moment later and thanked the teacher for looking after Amhar and then he eased his daughter out of his arms a little to look at her again. "I promise you, Amhar," he deliberately kept his voice soft, so that she wouldn't think he was cross. "I wouldn't forget you, and I won't be going away for a while, not until Mummy is better and not even then if I can help it, all right?"

Amhar nodded and pulled her teddy bear out from between her body and her father's. "Will Mummy be home from the hospickle soon?"

Arthur smothered a smile at his daughter's pronunciation of 'hospital'. "Mummy will be home in a few days, if the doctor says she's better." He tried not to be more definite than that, just in case anything happened to keep Guinevere in hospital longer than expected, though he inwardly prayed it wouldn't.

Amhar nodded and seemed a little reassured, but Arthur heard her sigh softly. She was obviously missing Guinevere more than he'd expected. Then again, he reasoned, Guinevere spent all her time with the children when she wasn't working. It was no wonder they would miss her. The thought brought his own absence to mind again and added to his guilt.

"Now," Arthur turned and began to walk with Amhar in his arms across the school hall and into the main entranceway of the school, where they walked out of the building. "Before we go and collect Llacheu, I have to go and see Uncle Gwaine at the restaurant, so I'm sure he'll let you have a drink, what do you fancy?"

Amhar pulled out of Arthur's arms and beamed at him. "Lemonade!"

Arthur grinned at the transformation on his daughter's face and nodded. "Right, lemonade it is, come on then."

A few minutes later Arthur reached his car. He unlocked it and opened the back door to put Amhar into her car seat. "Now, are you comfortable?" he asked, when she was seated securely.

Amhar nodded, "Daddy, I drew Mummy a picture today, it's in my school bag. The teacher said you might be able to take it to her at the hospickle."

Arthur had just put Amhar's school bag on the floor of the car, near her feet. He opened the zip on the bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He looked at the innocent drawings of brightly coloured simply drawn flowers and smiled. "You drew this for your Mummy?" he asked, holding the picture out to Amhar as he smiled affectionately at her.

Amhar nodded. "The teacher said I could do it because I was sad because Mummy's poorly in the hospickle." Her face fell again as she spoke and her lower lip wobbled tremulously.

"Oh, Princess." Arthur released the harness on the car seat he'd just secured Amhar into and took her in his arms. He eased her away after a moment and looked into the blue eyes that so closely resembled his own. "Mummy will be home soon, she's already feeling a lot better, but the doctor wants her to stay at the hospital for a few days, just until she's well enough to come home to us, all right?"

"Will you take Mummy my picture?" Amhar asked, her eyes wide.

Arthur smiled and nodded. "I could take it tonight, or would you prefer to take it yourself and go with me and Llacheu to see Mummy tomorrow evening?"

Amhar's eyes widened still further in surprise. "We could go to the hospickle to see Mummy, me and Llacheu?"

Arthur nodded and smiled at the excitement in Amhar's eyes. "Yes, but not tonight because Mummy is still feeling quite tired," he explained clearly, so that Amhar understood. "Mummy asked me to take you and Llacheu to see her tomorrow, before your bedtime, all right?"

Amhar nodded enthusiastically, her eyes bright with pleasure. Sensing how her mood had lifted, Arthur kissed her on the tip of her nose, which made her giggle and then he secured her back into her car seat and stood upright to close the passenger door. He walked around to the driver's side quickly and got in and then he drove into town.

A while later, having navigated through the late afternoon traffic, Arthur pulled up outside the Rising Sun. He helped Amhar out of the car and then held her hand as they walked into the restaurant, which was fairly quiet at that time of day. Leon was at the bar and smiled in recognition when he saw Amhar when Arthur picked her back up in his arms as they approached the bar. "Hello young lady," he said cheerfully. "We don't see you very often at this time of day."

"Daddy's come to see Uncle Gwaine before we go and get Llacheu from school," Amhar explained solemnly. "Daddy picked me up from pre-school today because me and Llacheu had to stay with Gandpa last night because Mummy is in the hospickle."

"I see," Leon didn't take his eyes off Amhar as he spoke to her. "Well, I'll tell you what, Auntie Mithian is sitting over there with Galahad," he pointed to a quiet area on the other side of the restaurant, away from the bar. "She's just picked up Galahad from his pre-school and she's been doing some shopping for the new baby, so why don't you go over and say hello and I'll bring you a drink over while Daddy sees Uncle Gwaine, all right?"

Arthur turned slightly as he put Amhar down and saw Mithian. She smiled to acknowledge she'd seen him and called to Amhar, who beamed with pleasure at the sight of Galahad. She ran across the restaurant excitedly and greeted Galahad as if she hadn't seen him in years.

Relieved that Amhar was occupied, Arthur turned back to Leon. "Thanks for that, she's been a bit upset at pre-school because of Guinevere being in hospital, but Galahad will distract her for a bit. Can I get her a lemonade?" He got his wallet out and went to pay for Amhar's drink.

"On the house," Leon dismissed Arthur with a roll of his eyes and poured Amhar a drink from a big bottle of lemonade and put a colourful straw and a cocktail umbrella in the glass. "I'll take this over and then you can tell me how Gwen is. Sefa let Gwaine know she'd been rushed into hospital, apparently someone from the care agency phoned an ambulance, is that right?"

Arthur nodded, but he got no further. Leon took Amhar's drink over and spent a moment chatting with her and his son before going back to Arthur at the bar. "Right, so tell me," he kept his voice low, "what's been going on, is Gwen all right?"

Arthur spent the next few minutes telling Leon what had happened to Guinevere, how he'd got the call when he was in Warwickshire and the state she was in when he saw her at the hospital. He explained what was wrong and that she'd needed emergency surgery. Lowering his own voice to make sure Amhar couldn't hear, he met Leon's gaze across the bar. "The surgeon said, if she hadn't got there when she did, she'd have..." He couldn't say the words, a lump suddenly rose in the back of his throat and he swallowed hard. "She had internal bleeding," he explained when he could talk again. "I nearly lost her, Leon."

"But is she all right now?" Leon asked urgently.

Arthur nodded and sighed. "She's getting there. She's still sore, but she's doing pretty well, all things considered. I just wish I'd been here when she was taken ill. If I'd been here, maybe I could have got her to the hospital sooner, or maybe I could have got her to see our own doctor when she was in pain. I can't believe how stupid I've been, staying away from her and the children for so long, and then to go and accuse her of having an affair…." He broke off, unable to say any more.

Leon shook his head sadly. "There's no point in dwelling on any of that now, is there? What matters now is that Gwen is all right, or she will be. Have you talked things through with her? I know something must have been wrong for you to stay away, but you're home now and you've been given a chance to sort things out, so have you?"

Arthur nodded hesitantly. "There are things we still need to discuss, things I can't tell you because Guinevere doesn't know yet, but she knows I still have things to tell her and we've made a start, but…" He allowed his voice to slide away and he turned to look back at Amhar, who was giggling and chatting away with Galahad while Mithian showed her some of the things she'd bought for her new baby, who was just weeks away now.

"What?" Leon asked, when Arthur turned back to him.

Arthur heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I just don't know if she'll forgive me when I tell her all of it and I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't forgive me."

Leon seemed to consider his words carefully before he spoke. "Look," he looked at Arthur gravely over the bar between them. "I don't know what's going on and I don't want to know," his tone was serious but kind. "All I know is that you love Gwen and she loves you and you've been given another chance with her, so whatever it is, just tell her."

"What if she won't forgive me?" Arthur asked, thinking as he spoke about how simple Leon made things sound.

Leon shook his head decisively. "I don't think you're giving Gwen enough credit. She might get angry with you, she might even yell and throw things at you, but I don't think anything you have to say will be as bad as all this time you've been away. I've seen her in here a couple of times when she's been in with Llacheu and Amhar. She's been like a shell of herself, Arthur."

Arthur nodded. "I know I've left her to do everything, run the house, see to the children, all of it, on top of her job as well..."

"I don't mean any of that," Leon interrupted, shaking his head again. "I mean she's been a shell of herself without you." Leon watched as Arthur frowned as he tried to take in what his friend was saying, but he didn't give him a chance to speak. Knowing he had Arthur's attention, he went on. "Look, I know you need Gwen, it's obvious you wouldn't last five minutes without her," to Leon's surprise, Arthur nodded in agreement and didn't even try to argue. "What I don't think you realise is how much she needs you."

Now Arthur's frown slipped away and he released a dismissive huff of laughter. "Guinevere could manage without me. She runs that house and organises the children like clockwork."

Leon shook his head again. "You're still talking about the practicalities, the cooking, cleaning, getting the kids to school on time, that sort of thing, but I'm talking about in here," he placed a hand over his heart. "Gwen needs you every bit as much as you need her, so even if she yells, even if she throws every plate in the house at you, which going by your display in here a while ago I'd suggest you might deserve, you'll work it out, I know you will."

Arthur listened to Leon's words and the certainty in his tone. Did Guinevere really need him as much as he knew he needed her? When they were picking themselves up from losing Gwydre they'd both worked so hard to save their marriage, but deep down Arthur had always believed Guinevere could manage without him if she had to. Guinevere was the strong one, he knew that well enough, but did that mean she didn't need him? He had no idea. What he did know all too well was that he'd never felt good enough for her. Right from the moment he first saw her in a pub they had both known well enough to regard as their local, Arthur knew he'd never be good enough for her. He might've earned more than her, his father might have owned a successful company, but in his heart he knew, Guinevere was a better person than he could ever wish to be and his failure now had illustrated the fact all too clearly for him. Would admitting the mess he was in be the final straw for her, would it be the thing that finally pushed her away? Or was it like Leon said, that he wasn't giving her enough credit and she needed him? He knew there was only one way he would really know, he would have to tell her the truth. In any case, he reminded himself, he'd promised he would tell her when she was home from the hospital, so he had no choice.

Leon's mention of the last time he was at the restaurant reminded Arthur what he'd come for. He cleared his throat nervously. "Is Gwaine out in the back? I need a word. I think I owe him an apology." He looked Leon in the eyes sincerely. "I owe you an apology too, I shouldn't have created a scene the last time I was in. I was in a filthy mood, I said a lot of stupid things I didn't mean and I'm sorry."

Leon nodded and a hint of a smile flashed in his eyes. "It's fine, but look, the next time you and that mad friend of ours want to put on a floor show, give me a bit of warning and I'll sharpen up my referee skills. Gwaine isn't easy to hang on to when he's furious, you're lucky you went out of here without black eyes and with all your teeth."

"It wouldn't have been any more than I deserved," Arthur admitted softly. "I was a jealous, blind fool and I took that out on Gwaine and I need to put it right before it gets out of hand. I promised Guinevere I would sort it out, so will you ask him to come out here?"

As Arthur finished speaking Leon moved and opened up a flap in the bar. "Come through here, Gwaine's in the cellar doing a stock take. Just don't make Gwaine angry, we've got dozens of bottles of booze down there, I don't fancy cleaning up the mess if you two start throwing things at each other."

"Will you keep an eye on Amhar?" Arthur asked as he followed Leon behind the bar. "If she asks where I am, just tell her I'm speaking to Gwaine and I'll be as quick as I can."

Leon nodded and turned his head to look at Amhar, who was sipping her lemonade through the straw Leon had put in her drink and giggling with Galahad as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Just get through here and sort things out with Gwaine. Amhar won't miss you for a few minutes."

Leaving Leon behind the bar, Arthur went through to the room at the back of the bar, a hallway area that led to the kitchen, where there was nothing but white walls and a backless wooden bench that rested against the wall adjacent to the kitchen door. A couple of feet past the kitchen door there was an alcove that included a heavy wooden door, which now stood open, allowing a draft of cold air to flow into the hallway. Having been given a guided tour when Gwaine and Leon first opened the restaurant, Arthur knew this door led to the cellar, although on first sight it appeared to be in darkness. Taking a deep breath and telling himself he wasn't nervous, he reminded himself that Gwaine had been his friend for years and went through the cellar doorway into the darkness.

Arthur blinked as he went through the entrance to the cellar, his eyes adjusting to the dark. In the distance he could see the faint glow of a light and he walked towards it, stepping carefully down a few steps into the cellar. Arthur shivered slightly as he walked forward and told himself it was the change in the temperature between the bar and the cellar and had nothing to do with him being nervous, but when the light ahead became brighter and he spotted Gwaine ahead of him, standing with his back to him under the light of a bare light bulb that hung from the ceiling above him, his head bowed over a clipboard in his hand, Arthur knew he wasn't being completely honest with himself.

"Gwaine?" Arthur heard himself speak. He watched Gwaine's head rise from its bowed position over the clipboard in his hand. There was no response for a second and Arthur was about to speak again as he stepped further forward, but when he reached Gwaine's side he could hear his friend counting under his breath and using a pen to point at a row of bottles on the shelf in front of him. Reminding himself he'd disturbed Gwaine stock taking, Arthur waited.

A moment later Gwaine cleared his throat. He didn't turn to Arthur or acknowledge him in any way, other than to speak. "You are a silly sod, you do know that, don't you?"

Smothering half a smile at his friend's abrupt greeting, Arthur's eyes travelled over the row upon row of bottles on the shelves in front him. "I think you've mentioned it before, once or twice."

"So, is your head going to stay out of your arse now, or are you just waiting for another chance to make a total prat of yourself? I mean honestly, as if Gwen would ever…?" Gwaine got to the point of his fight with Arthur, though he still didn't take his eyes off the shelves in front of him.

"I know, I was jealous and stupid, I know that now," Arthur admitted, following Gwaine's gaze. He studied the labels on the bottles in front of him, gin, vodka, all manner of spirits and wines. He looked below the shelves to the small barrels of beer stored in the cellar. "I had it all wrong Gwaine, I should have known Guinevere would never be unfaithful."

Gwaine nodded and rolled his eyes good-naturedly a hint of a smile crossing his lips. "Well what do you think I was trying to tell you, you soppy git?" Gwaine's face straightened. "How is Gwen, Sefa told me she'd been rushed into hospital, she said Hunith told her because she's a friend of Gwen's?"

Arthur nodded and sighed as relief washed over him again. "She's still sore and tired, but she's doing all right, thank God. She needed emergency surgery for internal bleeding, if Lance hadn't got her to the hospital when he did, she..." Arthur stopped talking abruptly when his throat tightened. He cleared his throat of the lump of emotion that came up again out of nowhere and went on. "How could I have been so stupid Gwaine, how could I let her down again?"

Turning to face Arthur at last, Gwaine shrugged. "I don't know, but have you sorted it out with her now? I suppose if you're calling him Lance you must have?"

Arthur nodded. "I can hardly call him anything else now, can I? He saved her life. I keep thinking about what might have happened if she'd been on her own at the house, or if she'd been alone with the children, like she has been for months. If I'd lost her it would have been my fault." Arthur turned and looked at Gwaine as he spoke.

Gwaine shook his head. "You can't think like that, you just need to concentrate on getting her better now and sort out what's been going on between you. Something's been going on, hasn't it? You haven't just been busy at work, have you?"

Acutely aware of the guilt he still carried for how ill Guinevere had been and feeling as if he would never rid himself of it no matter what anyone said, Arthur shook his head. "I have been busy, that much is true," he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as he spoke. "But it's not the whole story, no."

Gwaine nodded as if he'd known all along what Arthur was going to say. "So, are you going to tell me?" He eyed Arthur expectantly.

Reluctantly, Arthur shook his head. "I want to," he said quickly, when a frown formed on Gwaine's face. "If I could tell you all of it now, I would, but Guinevere doesn't know all of it yet. I want to wait until she's back at home and feeling stronger. It's only right she should know first."

Gwaine nodded and released a breath of air. "Well just tell her, all right, don't let it get like last time."

Arthur heaved a sigh, knowing Gwaine was talking about the months he'd spent apart from Guinevere after Gwydre died. He'd started divorce proceedings because he was convinced he'd lost her when their relationship fell apart in the midst of their grief, only for Guinevere to forget when she was ill with her breakdown. Admitting what he'd done then was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, up until now. Even so, he knew he couldn't hide from her any more now, she needed to know the truth, all of it. "Don't worry about it," he spoke firmly, "I won't let that happen again, I need her too much."

Gwaine looked Arthur sternly in the eyes. "I know you do, just don't forget it this time, all right, or so help me God, I'll..."

"Point taken, Gwaine," Arthur warded off the threat in his friend's eyes. "Anyway," he directed the subject to what he came to say. "I came to apologise, I shouldn't have come in here and picked a fight with you, I'm sorry."

Gwaine shrugged. "Forget it, it's over with now. In any case, you probably weren't the only one at fault. I was annoyed with you for leaving Gwen and the kids on their own, so when you came in here feeling sorry for yourself, I lost my temper. I just don't think you know how lucky you are, that's all, I mean, you have a wife who would walk through fire for you, you have two beautiful, good kids, so why hasn't it been enough for all these months? I'd give my right arm for what you've got, did you know that?"

Arthur frowned in confusion. "You've got Sefa, I thought you were happy?"

"I wasn't talking about Sefa, we are happy," Gwaine said decisively. "I was talking about kids."

The light came on in Arthur's mind. Why hadn't he thought about that before, he asked himself. Had he really been so wrapped up in his own problems, he'd forgotten about his friends? The answer stood in front of him. "Is there still no news?"

Gwaine shook his head and released a long, pained sigh. "All Sefa wants is a baby, but I can't give it to her, all because my family was too messed up to talk to each other properly. If I'd known something stupid like mumps could do that, I'd have..." he broke off and shook his head again, not knowing what he would have done if he'd had all the facts. "Anyway," he went on, "we've decided to stop trying for a bit. We're both sick of it, the tests, the procedures, the routine, so we're going to stop for a while and then think about what to do. I think Sefa is thinking about adoption, but..."

"But you want one of your own, is that it?" Arthur knew he didn't really need to ask the question, it was written all over Gwaine's face.

Gwaine nodded slowly. "Wouldn't you?" he eyed Arthur quizzically. "I know people talk about giving a child a home and it doesn't matter if it doesn't share your blood, but what if it does matter, what if I can't feel the same about someone else's child as I know I would about my own?"

Arthur met Gwaine's gaze seriously. "But what about mine, you treat Llacheu and Amhar as if they are your own, don't you? God knows Gwaine, for months you've probably been a damned sight better father to them than I have, they think the world of you and Gwydre loved you, I know he did."

A flicker of emotion danced in Gwaine's eyes for a moment, until he cleared his throat. "That's different, you know it is."

Arthur sighed and thought of what else to say. He had an idea. "Well, what if something happened to me and Guinevere? You're their Godfather Gwaine, wouldn't you look out for them and bring them up as if they were your own, or would you walk away from, I mean, it's not as if they're your flesh and blood, is it?"

Gwaine glared at Arthur. "Don't be stupid, you know bloody well I'd do anything for those kids, you know I'd never abandon them."

Arthur couldn't help himself. He grinned and nodded. "Exactly."

Gwaine rolled his eyes in irritation. "Smart-arse. I still say it's not the same to raise someone else's kids as having your own."

If Guinevere was there she'd be telling Gwaine that love was love, Arthur knew that, but what could he say to convince his friend? He had no idea. "Look," he said a moment later, after thinking for a moment. "I don't know if it's the same or not, but even if you are raised by someone who is your flesh and blood, it's not exactly any assurance, is it? Even your own blood can let you down, even if they say they love you."

Gwaine sneered derisively. " Do you really think I don't know that? You know my childhood was every bit as much of a mess as yours, but I wasn't miserable in a posh house with a nanny and everything I ever wanted put in front of me."

Arthur forced himself not to get angry with what Gwaine said, he knew he was just lashing out, but the memory of his childhood still burned through him. He could still vividly recall never knowing much about his mother, but having a few vague memories of her smell to cling to. He remembered all the times his father left him with the latest in a long line of nannies because he had more important things to do than spending time with his son. None of the material things his father handed out to him as a child made up for that.

Gwaine looked uncomfortable a moment later and his face filled with shame. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he flushed awkwardly. "I know you didn't have it easy, sorry."

Arthur shook his head. "I know what you meant, forget it. All I'm saying is, even if you are blood, no one is perfect Gwaine, people can still make mistakes and damage their children, even with the best intentions in the world. Look at me for example, Amhar told me when I picked her up, she got upset at school today because her mother's in the hospital and she thought I might have to go away again and I'd forget to pick her up. Who does that to their child, Gwaine? For months I've been working my backside off, thinking I was doing the right thing. I really thought I was giving Guinevere and the children the chance of a better life, but now I wonder, because all I seem to have done is hurt Guinevere and make my children insecure, and they are mine, so I don't see the difference in whether a child is yours or not, there is no certainty of getting it right, either way."

Gwaine heaved a sigh when Arthur finished speaking. "We haven't decided what we want to do yet, we both need to think it over."

"Of course," Arthur agreed. "All I'm saying is, don't dismiss a chance of happiness until you've thought it through, that's all."

A few minutes later, after shaking Gwaine's hand and apologising again for their falling out, Arthur went back up to the bar. Amhar smiled brightly when she saw him and rushed into his arms. After thanking Mithian for looking after Amhar and promising Leon he'd keep them informed of how Guinevere was doing, Arthur picked up his daughter in his arms and carried her out to his car, ready to go and pick up his son from school.


	15. Chapter 15

**I will begin, as always, by thanking those of you who took the time to write reviews for the previous chapter for your encouragement. I will also apologise for the delay with this chapter. The school holidays meant having to spend time with the family and that took a lot of time away for writing. I was about to resume my writing about a fortnight ago when a persistent back problem reared its head again, leaving me in too much pain to sit for long periods of time at the computer, so getting much writing done was out of the question. My back is still not 100% better, but it is getting there, so I hope it lets me get this chapter done without too much of a problem, although it has meant that this has taken longer to write than I would have liked. However, I should point out that this chapter is a bit longer than some I've written. I struggled with it at first, but in the end it developed a life of its own, so I hope you like it.**

When Arthur saw his father that evening he told him he wouldn't need him the following evening because the children were going to see their mother at the hospital.

Uther looked surprised. "Is Guinevere up to seeing them so soon, is she well enough?"

Arthur saw the surprise and concern on his father's face and shrugged. "She said she feels fine, although she is still feeling sore, but she misses the children. One of the nurses took her drip out today, so there is nothing in the room the children might worry about and she wants to see them. I think it might even do her good, it might give her the lift she needs. Guinevere was worried about you though, you're not offended about not having the children tomorrow, are you?" Arthur eyed his father quizzically as they stood in the living room, by the door. The children were with them, Llachue sat cross-legged on the thickly carpeted floor, whilst Amhar lay on her tummy, her legs bent at the knee towards her bottom, waving rhythmically in time to the music on the DVD they were both glued to on the large screen TV in the corner of the room

Uther shook his head vigorously. "Why on earth would I be offended, they are your children."

Arthur shrugged lightly again. "I know, but Guinevere was just worried. I told her you wouldn't mind, but she was worried about hurting your feelings. She was worried about you having them this evening too, because you had them all night last night. We're not taking advantage, are we?" Arthur's brows arched as he asked the question.

Uther simultaneously rolled his eyes and shook his head. "For goodness sake Arthur, how many times do I have to tell you?" he indicated to the children sitting in the middle of the room as he stood by the door with his son. "They are my grandchildren, you are _supposed_ to take advantage of me, it's what I'm for."

A small relieved smile brushed Arthur's lips. It was at times like this, when his father made his keenness to help so obvious, along with his apparently endless enthusiasm for spending time with his grandchildren, that Arthur became acutely aware of how much Uther had changed from the aloof and remote man he'd known as a child.

"Look," Uther went on," dropping his voice slightly, conscious of the children in the room and turning slightly to look at them as he spoke, before turning back to Arthur and looking his son in the eyes. "I can't undo how I prioritised work over your mother for so long any more than I can take back how I put work ahead of raising you as your mother would have wanted, but I can do my bit to help out now, while I'm needed and I do it gladly, Arthur, so let's have no more nonsense about taking advantage of me."

Arthur nodded in agreement with his father, though he wished he could go back a few days and not throw the past back in Uther's face as he did when he was so terrified for Guinevere. His father obviously hadn't forgotten, but he didn't have time to discuss it with him now, he needed to get to the hospital to see Guinevere. It had only been a few hours since he'd seen her, he mused to himself, but it had seemed like hours since he'd left her to pick up the children from school. In that time he'd helped the children to change out of their school uniforms and into some clothes to play in. He'd spent some time with the children before dinner, playing board games with them inside the house instead of doing things in the garden with them as he planned when the early evening became wet. Arthur let the children choose what to play, so out came their old favourites, Snakes and Ladders, Guess Who and Kerplunk, which occupied their time and stopped them dwelling on their mother's absence for too long. Arthur wasn't so lucky. Playing the games with the children reminded him sharply of years before, before he was married and he lived in the flat that eventually became his first home with Guinevere when they were married. Sometimes, if the weather stopped them going out at the weekends, when he was off work and Guinevere could be sure that Elyan would be at home to keep an eye on her Dad, who was still recovering from a stroke he'd had some time previously, they would spend time at the flat. It was all very innocent, he mused, well, _most_ of the time it was. They never quite got around to sleeping together before they were married. Arthur was busy at work and at the whim of his father's demands on his time, which were considerable in those days, while Guinevere was wrapped up in looking after her Dad and didn't like leaving him with Elyan for long, so the idea of sneaking off somewhere to sleep together was out of the question. Besides, Arthur mused thoughtfully, neither of them wanted to sneak off somewhere, as if being together like that would be something to be ashamed of, so they somehow ended up waiting until they were married, but that didn't stop them having fun together. Arthur could remember many afternoons at the flat, after they'd watched DVD's and had takeaways for lunch, or they picked at finger foods while they played board games. They always seemed to end up on the sofa somehow, and sometimes cuddling would lead to other things, sometimes very _interesting_ other things.

It wasn't just while the children were playing that Arthur missed Guinevere's presence. Sitting at the table in the kitchen for dinner with the children seemed strange without her. Guinevere would always make conversation with the children over dinner, asking them what they'd done at school in a way that put the children at ease and encouraged them to talk. She had a way of latching on to things they said, asking them questions to allow them to expand on things and show they had understood things they'd been taught. When Arthur tried he was conscious of sounding like he was interviewing the children for a job, not making conversation with them over dinner. It reminded him of his own childhood, the times when the nanny had the night off and it was just him and his father for dinner. His father would ask him what he'd done at school and would lecture him endlessly if he hadn't lived up to Uther's exacting standards in any subject, which only served to undermine the little confidence he had in his academic ability.

"We played some games in maths today, Dad," Llacheu said, after swallowing a forkful of vegetables. "I got a star for knowing most of my five times table," the boy coloured bashfully as he spoke and focused his attention on his food rather than on his father's face.

Knowing maths didn't come naturally to Llacheu, Arthur smiled. "Well done Llacheu," he beamed at his son, whose colour deepened further at his father's praise. "Did Mum help you learn your tables before she went into hospital?" He tried to keep his tone light, tried to sound as if he was taking an interest, not interrogating his son as his father had once interrogated him at the dinner table.

Llacheu shook his head. "Grandpa has been helping me after school," he almost whispered the words and looked resolutely at the plate of food in front of him. "He says I'm doing well, but I can't always do it in my head very quickly like Grandpa can, so it's not very good, is it?" Llacheu bit his lip anxiously, looking up at his father across the table at last.

"Well," Arthur thought carefully about what to say now. If he got this wrong now he could completely undermine Llacheu's confidence in his ability with maths for years to come. If he got it right he could bolster the bit of confidence his son had and encourage him to keep trying. "If your Grandpa says you're doing well, you must be, mustn't you?" Arthur smiled at Llachue. "Knowing most of your five times table is great too, so I'd say you're doing very well and I'm sure your Mum will agree when you see her tomorrow. You'll have to remember to tell her, won't you?"

Llacheu brightened at his father's praise, but the anxiety still lingered in his eyes. "But why can't I do it quickly? Some of the other children were quicker than me."

"Everybody learns at their own speed," Arthur spoke after thinking about what to say for a moment. "I bet there are other things you can do quickly whilst some of the other children are a little bit slower, like football for example?" Llacheu caught on to what his father was saying and nodded uncertainly, so Arthur went on, still conscious of sounding encouraging without intending to lecture. "Some people can just learn some things very quickly, but with other people it will sometimes take a bit longer, but if you keep trying and you work hard, you'll get there Llacheu, and that's all that matters. I'm very proud of you for working so hard and your Mum will be too."

Dragging his thoughts back to the present and away from the way his son's eyes had shone with pleasure at the thought of being praised so highly, Arthur prepared to go back to the hospital to see Guinevere.

"Right you two," he stood by the living room door and spoke to the children over the sound coming from the DVD they were watching. "Behave yourselves for Grandpa while I'm out. Grandpa has said he'll help you get ready for bed and read you a story, but I'll come up and check on you both when I'm back, all right?"

"We'll be good," the children chorused in unison, never taking their eyes off the TV.

Satisfied that the children would be all right while he was out, Arthur thanked his father again for looking after them.

Uther rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "It's fine, the children will be fine, now will you just go? At this rate Guinevere will be wondering where you've got to. By the way," Uther added as an after-thought, "have you told her to expect me with Tom tomorrow?"

Arthur shook his head and frowned slightly. "Why, is there a problem?" He wondered if his father had double-booked himself somehow.

Uther shook his head quickly and smiled. "No, no, I just wondered if Guinevere knew or you wanted to surprise her?"

Arthur smiled softly. "I thought the surprise of seeing Tom might be good for her."

Uther smiled wider. "I'm sure it will, it'll probably be good for Tom too. I know he's been worried sick about Guinevere, I spoke to him again today."

Arthur sighed heavily. "I should have made time to speak to Tom myself, but I didn't want to leave Guinevere alone for long." Deep down Arthur wondered if he also hadn't spoken to Tom because he was still trying to avoid his father in law. Though he knew Tom hadn't reacted angrily to his being away when Guinevere became so ill, he knew Tom would probably have something to say about his behaviour towards her over the last year or so. Still, he mused to himself, nothing Tom said could get close to the self reproach he felt.

Uther shook his head firmly. "Tom understands, don't worry. Just go now and spend some time with Guinevere and give her our love."

Thanking his father quickly again and reminding the children to behave, Arthur left for the hospital.

The next day came around quickly. Arthur woke early, just as the first few rays of early summer sun began to creep through the closed curtains and light up the room with a golden glow. The truth was that he hadn't slept well on his own in the double bed he usually shared with Guinevere. Every time he moved in his sleep he woke, expecting to find her next to him, but she wasn't there. He told himself he was being ridiculous, reminding himself that he'd spent a lot of time away over the last year and he'd managed when Guinevere was miles away, so what was so different now, when Guinevere was only a short drive away? The truth seemed to smack him in the face. He'd been so terrified of admitting the truth to Guinevere, it was easier to stay away from her than to be at home, but it hadn't made being apart from her any easier than it was now. Each day without her had been an existence, just something to get through before the next day brought the same fears and problems while he tried to convince himself that he was staying away for Guinevere's own good, she was better off not knowing the problems he faced, but even as the thought went through his mind he knew he was lying to himself.

In the light of this new day, as he sat up in the big double bed and then pushed the bedding back to give himself room to sit on the side of the bed and then get to his feet, Arthur knew he'd spent months missing Guinevere, but he'd been too wrapped up in his fear to do anything about it. He silently vowed never to make that mistake again. Whatever happened in the future, being with Guinevere and their children was infinitely better than being alone. Arthur knew that on some level he'd always known that simple truth, he'd realised it when he was in Manchester and even years before, when they worked so hard to sort themselves out when they were recovering from losing Gwydre, but seeing Guinevere with Lance had awoken every doubt he had ever had about how deserving he was to have the love of a woman as remarkable as his wife, so he'd thrown away the chance to do the right thing and allowed himself to let jealousy get in the way. Lance's call had changed everything. In the space of a few moments Arthur knew he wanted nothing more out of life than to be with Guinevere and their children. The thought that he might have been too late to make up for how he'd been treating Guinevere for months still haunted him. The thought of how he would have gone on if he'd lost her was never far from his mind, but neither was the feeling of gratitude he felt for still having her.

Arthur got the children up, gave them breakfast and got them ready for school. He walked them to school in the bright early summer sunshine. At the entrance to Amhar's pre-school he knelt to give her a hug and a kiss. "Now, remember," he spoke softly, looking into Amhar's eyes and holding her hands in his. "Grandpa is going to pick you both up from school later," he turned to look at Llacheu as he spoke and the boy nodded and then Arthur turned back to his daughter. "I'll pick you both up from Grandpa's…."

"Like Mummy does?" Amhar cut in before Arthur could say any more.

Arthur nodded and smiled softly. "Yes, Grandpa thought you both might like to go to his house when you finish school, like you usually do, so I'll come and pick you both up from Grandpa's later. We'll go home and have some dinner and then we'll go and see Mummy at the hospital, all right?"

Amhar beamed brightly. "I can't wait to see Mummy!"

The bright smile on Amhar's face sparkled in her eyes and warmed Arthur's heart. He hugged her again and then released her. "Mummy can't wait to see both of you, she's missed you both very much, so you go off into school young lady and be good, all right? I'll see you later at Grandpa's."

"You won't be late, will you Daddy?" The smile slipped out of Amhar's eyes and she eyed her father warily.

The doubt in his daughter's gaze made Arthur ache. The thought that his long absences from home had made his children doubt their trust in him reminded him once more of how stupid he'd been for so long and reminded him how much he'd let his family down when they needed him the most. He looked into Amhar's eyes and took her hands again. "I promise you Amhar, I will do everything I can to pick you up on time, all right? I won't forget you, either of you, I can promise you that," he looked at both of his children solemnly.

Moments later, after one more hug, Amhar went into pre-school and Arthur walked with Llacheu the short distance to school.

"Dad?" Llacheu spoke just as they walked through the school gates.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, hearing the thoughtful way Llacheu addressed him and slightly elongated his title.

"Can I get Mum a present to take with us when we go to see her? Amhar showed me the picture she drew for Mum, but I've got nothing for her and I don't know if I'll get a chance to draw a picture for her or anything, so can we get her something?"

Just inside the school gates, Arthur knelt to speak to his son on his level. "You know you don't have to take Mum anything, don't you? Mum wants to see you and Amhar more than anything, she won't mind if you have nothing for her, just as long as you and Amhar are there."

Llacheu nodded thoughtfully and sighed. "I know, but I'd like to take her a present, so can I?"

Seeing the serious expression on Llacheu's face, Arthur nodded. "Of course you can take her a present. When I pick you up from Grandpa's we'll go and buy Mum something. How about we pick up a get well soon card too, you and Amhar could sign it?"

Arthur decided the look of relief on Llacheu's face would be worth driving into town through the late afternoon traffic to find something suitable for Guinevere. "We could buy your Mum some flowers or something, she'd like that," he suggested, remembering in the back of his mind that some of the local florists stayed open as late as eight in the evening, so he wouldn't have to rush the children around too much when they left his father's.

The relief on Llacheu's face became a broad smile and he nodded enthusiastically. Giving his father an affectionate hug, Llacheu was still beaming as he walked into school.

Feeling a sense of achievement for getting something right, Arthur walked home to pick up his car and go to see Guinevere. He was just about to walk onto his driveway when a tow truck pulled up on the road outside the house. Arthur felt a rush of relief to see Guinevere's car on the back of the tow truck. He eyed the car carefully and couldn't see any damage, which was a relief considering how upset Guinevere would have been if it had got scratched while it was outside her client's house for the last few days. He hailed the driver and went up to the window of the vehicle.

A large man sat in the driver's seat inside the vehicle and acknowledged Arthur. "Morning guv," the man said, chewing as he spoke. "Returning this mini for Mr. Pendragon."

Arthur nodded. "That's right, can you put it on the drive for me? If you can put it on the drive, maybe just outside the house or something, I might have my wife's car keys later and I'll put it in the garage for her," if she gives me permission to drive it, he thought to himself.

"Oh, it's the wife's car, is it?" The tow truck driver grinned. "What did she do, forget where she left it?" The grin on the tow truck driver's face widened and he released a bellow of laughter at his own joke.

Arthur glared at the tow truck driver. Neither he or Guinevere were particularly politically correct, in the past they'd often laughed off people taking offence at silly things, but it was still too soon for him to find anything remotely funny about Guinevere being rushed into hospital. "Actually, my wife was taken very ill at work, she was rushed into the local hospital," he had to force himself not to yell. "She could quite easily have died and left our children without a mother, so I don't think it's a laughing matter, do you?"

Seeing he'd caused offence, the tow truck driver's grin slipped away and he quickly did as Arthur asked. Able to lower the car from the tow truck from the cab of his vehicle, he only got out briefly to free the car from the mechanism of the tow truck. Arthur took in the man's bulk, his stomach hanging over the belt on the tatty pair of jeans he wore that were easily a size or two too small, and swallowed down a sarcastic remark. Soon the tow truck driver was back in the cab of his vehicle and Guinevere's mini was safely back on the drive of their home. Thanking the driver through gritted teeth, Arthur paid him for the job.

The tow truck driver slipped the money Arthur paid him into a breast pocket on his checked shirt. "Right, I'll be off then," he eyed Arthur warily, as if he was waiting for another telling off. "I'm sorry about your missus, I meant no offence. My missus is always telling me off for making stupid jokes. I hope your missus gets better soon."

Releasing a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, Arthur acknowledged the other man's apology. "Forget it," he sighed heavily, knowing he'd probably over reacted. "I'm just not used to my wife not being at home, I didn't sleep particularly well," he explained, deliberately not going into any more detail.

The other man, who looked like he was in his fifties, with sharp blue eyes and brown curly hair that was turning grey at the sideburns, nodded sympathetically. "My missus had to go into hospital a couple of years ago," he lowered his gaze thoughtfully to the steering wheel in front of him and the cocky tone he'd used earlier turned into something almost painful. "She had to have a big operation, something to do with women's troubles, you know?" Arthur nodded, though he admitted to himself he had no real idea of what the other man was talking about. "Anyway," the truck driver went on, "she was in hospital for two weeks in the end, but it felt like months. How long has yours been in?"

Arthur sighed again and shook his head. "She's only been in there for two days," he replied, feeling foolish for being so soppy. "It feels like weeks," he admitted ruefully.

The older man nodded thoughtfully and then his manner changed again and he smiled brightly. "I suppose I'd better get off out of your way, you must be trying to get off to go and see her?"

Arthur nodded and he felt the tension he'd been feeling slipping away. Without another word, the tow truck driver reversed his vehicle back out into the road and drove off.

When the tow truck was gone, Arthur took a moment to look at the mini. Just having it back on the drive again seemed to bring Guinevere closer, as if some part of her presence was back at home, where she belonged, with him. Feeling ridiculously sentimental, he went to the car and ran a hand over the bonnet. "Don't you worry," he told the car, telling himself he was probably losing his mind or he'd gone ridiculously soft, but not caring in the slightest in that moment. "We'll have her back soon, won't we?"

Arthur didn't expect an answer, he hadn't gone _that_ soft, he told himself, but when a sudden beam of sunlight caught the car's headlights and made them gleam, he took that as agreement and nodded, before shaking his head at himself and going to the garage to get his own car out.

A short time later, Arthur had navigated through the traffic in the city and arrived at the hospital. He took the stairs to the gynaecology department, deciding he didn't want to stand around waiting for the lift. Reaching Guinevere's room, he glanced through the glass panel in the door before going in. From the door he could see she wasn't on the bed. He held down an urge to worry, remembering he hadn't seen her sitting in the chair by the bed before. He slipped into the room expecting to find Guinevere sitting in the chair waiting for him and opened his mouth to greet her, only to turn to the chair and find it empty.

Arthur's heart seemed to fly into the back of his throat. Without thinking about what he was doing, he looked at the bed Guinevere had occupied and found it not only empty, but perfectly made, almost as if it hadn't been slept in, the blankets were neat and perfectly smooth and tidy and the pillows looked freshly plumped up. Just as before, the other bed in the side room was stripped down to its mattress.

Arthur almost felt the colour drain out of his face. His heart began to hammer painfully in his chest. He looked around the room, as if somehow the walls would give him some idea where Guinevere would be, but there was nothing.

Going back out into the corridor, Arthur looked up and down urgently, hoping to find someone who could tell him where Guinevere was, but it was as if the entire gynaecology department was empty. There was a low hum of sound coming from outside the department, but the department itself seemed eerily silent.

As he stood in the corridor trying to decide what to do next, a thousand fears went through Arthur's mind. What if Guinevere had deteriorated for some reason in the night? What if she was lying somewhere in pain? What if her surgery wound had become infected and made her very ill? What if she was….

"Sir, can I…?"

Arthur's imagination did overtime, coming up with all of the worst possible reasons why Guinevere would not have been in her room. Every thought he had pushed his panic higher until he almost felt sick with fear and dread. He was so lost in thought that he didn't see the nurse come up to him. He started when she reached out and touched his arm.

"Sir, are you all right? Can I be of some assistance?"

Arthur blinked and opened his mouth to speak when he recognised the short haired blonde, blue eyed nurse he briefly met the previous day. "I...I'm looking for….."

"Arthur?" A familiar voice cut across Arthur as he went to ask the nurse where Guinevere was. He turned on his heel and relief overwhelmed him when he saw his wife. She was on her feet a short distance away, the auburn haired nurse he first met in Guinevere's room when she was taken into hospital walking slowly beside her on her left. Guinevere was holding the wooden hand rail that lined the walls of the hospital with her right hand, while the nurse was supporting her by taking her arm on the left. To all intents and purposes they looked like two friends having a stroll, except for Guinevere being in her light dressing gown and slippers and the way she was walking gingerly, as if every step she took was an effort.

Forgetting what he'd been saying to the blonde nurse, Arthur closed the short distance between him and his wife. The nurse at her side released Guinevere when Arthur reached her and stood back to give them a moment. Reacting on instinct alone, Arthur took Guinevere in his arms and held her tightly against him.

"Arthur, you're shaking, what is it?" Guinevere's gentle voice was almost smothered by Arthur's jacket. He'd worn one of his work suits, a comfortable light one he liked in the summer. He wore the dark blue suit with a white shirt, but hadn't bothered with a tie and wore the collar on the shirt open. He could feel Guinevere's breath against him through his clothes and relief overwhelmed him again. Holding her even tighter against him, he released a shaky sigh.

"Oh, not so tight, I'm still a little bit…." Guinevere pushed at him gently.

The spell broke. Pulled back to his senses, Arthur remembered Guinevere was still recovering from surgery and still had stitches. "Sorry," he breathed, loosening his hold on her slightly, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of her, not while she was there, in his arms, in one piece, breathing and alive.

"You're still shaking," the small distance between them enabled Guinevere to look up into Arthur's eyes as she spoke. "What is it, what's the matter?"

Guinevere's voice echoed the concerned look in her eyes. She was frowning at him with worry and chewing nervously on her lower lip.

Taking a deep breath at last, Arthur shook his head. "There's nothing the matter now, nothing at all." He barely recognised the sound of his own voice. His tone still reflected the fear that went through him when he couldn't find Guinevere. He had to hold himself back from pulling her tighter against him again.

Guinevere's frown deepened. "So why are you shaking?" She looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke. Arthur couldn't bring himself to look away from her penetrating gaze. It was as if she could see straight through him.

"I couldn't find you," he found his voice again after a moment of staring at Guinevere. "I went into your room and you weren't there and your bed was made. I thought….I don't know what I thought." He shook his head to free it from all the dark thoughts that seemed to surround him.

"You were worried about me?" Guinevere's brows arched in surprise.

Conscious of the auburn nurse a short distance away at last, though the blonde had discretely disappeared, Arthur nodded his head sheepishly.

"I'm so sorry," Guinevere heaved a sigh as she spoke. She raised a hand and caressed Arthur's cheek affectionately, making him shake for a different reason than worry. "I was in the shower," she gifted him with a warm smile. "Jackie," she indicated to the nurse on her left, standing a foot or so away. "Jackie said I could have a shower this morning. I went to the bathroom in a wheelchair, but I wanted to try to walk back. I thought I'd be back in my room before you arrived, I'm sorry. One of the other nurses must have made my bed while I was in the shower." She turned to Jackie, who nodded to confirm what she said.

She was only in the shower. Arthur registered Guinevere's toiletry bag in the nurse's hand for the first time and felt foolish for making such a fuss. Still, the panic he'd felt when he went into Guinevere's room and found it empty wouldn't go away in a hurry. He breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head. "It doesn't matter now, not as long as you're all right," he allowed the love he felt for her to reflect in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Guinevere's face filled with a warm smile at the tenderness in Arthur's gaze, until it slipped away and she seemed to be leaning on him more. "Although, I do think I might need to sit down pretty soon." Arthur watched as the colour seemed to drain from Guinevere's face and she weakened slightly in his arms.

"If you can support Guinevere, I'll find a wheelchair." Jackie, the nurse, spoke calmly. She was about to walk away quickly when Arthur halted her by picking Guinevere up in his arms. He tried not to jolt her too much as he picked her up and walked as quickly as he could to her room. He noticed the way she didn't complain when he picked her up. Instead, she seemed to lean against him heavily, as if she was exhausted.

Arriving at her room, Arthur was glad he'd left the door open. He went in and placed Guinevere down gently on her made bed. Jackie followed behind and checked Guinevere over to make sure she was all right. On establishing that she was fine, she'd just become tired very quickly, Jackie helped Guinevere to prop herself up a little so that she could sit comfortably on the bed, before quietly slipping out of the room and closing the door, leaving Arthur and Guinevere alone.

Knowing he was breaking the rules, Arthur perched himself on the side of Guinevere's bed, facing her. "Are you really all right, can I get you anything?" he fretted over her, taking both of her hands in his.

Guinevere smiled tenderly and shook her head. "I'm fine, don't worry about me," she smiled wider, before the smile slipped away. "Jackie warned me not to overdo it the first time I walked any distance. Maybe I was just standing for a bit too long, but I'm fine now, truly." She smiled again, it brightened her features and lingered in her eyes.

A little reassured, Arthur leaned towards Guinevere. He kissed her softly on the lips, before pulling back slowly. "I missed you last night," he admitted, without any embarrassment.

Guinevere nodded and held his hands tighter in hers. "Me too, I can't wait to come home. This is a single bed, but it feels massive without you."

Arthur smiled tenderly at Guinevere's admission. "Still, it won't be long now and I did get to carry you over the threshold, so maybe things aren't so bad." He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily and grinned.

Rolling her eyes, Guinevere let go of Arthur's hands. "I'm amazed you didn't hurt your back, picking me up like that. I didn't think I'd get tired quite that quickly, but Jackie did warn me. I just thought that the sooner I can be up and about, the sooner they'll let me come home." Her face fell. "I just want to come home, Arthur. I've had enough of being in here." Tears shone in her dark eyes, but didn't fall. "I just felt so much better this morning and I want to come home."

Arthur stroked a gentle finger down Guinevere's cheek. "Look," he saw the frustration in her eyes and ached to comfort her. "There's no point in rushing yourself to get better, is there?" He tried to speak steadily, which wasn't easy when Guinevere was so close and near to tears.

"Don't you want me to come home?" Guinevere asked, tears still lingering in her eyes.

There was an accusation in Guinevere's tone that Arthur couldn't miss. Taking one of her hands and holding it over his heart, he heaved a sigh. "I want nothing more than to pick you up and take you home right now," he admitted, gripping the hand over his heart tightly. "I lay in our bed last night and tried to sleep, but it didn't feel right without you there. The house is full of you, but it's not the same without you in it. The children miss you, I miss you, Guinevere. I miss you more than I can say, but I want you to be better, really better, before you come home, is that such a bad thing?"

Guinevere sighed and shook her head. "No, of course it isn't." She sighed again and forced a tiny hint of a smile to her lips. "I'm just being silly. Jackie warned me I might have a day or two of feeling a bit low after everything that's happened. Apparently it's quite common after surgery, you should probably ignore me."

Arthur shook his head seriously. "I've been doing enough of that over the last year or so. I won't be making that mistake again. From now on, you and the children are my priority Guinevere, I mean it."

The solemnity in Arthur's voice brought more tears to Guinevere's eyes. She tried to lean towards him, but stopped when her sore abdomen prevented her moving freely. Realising what she was trying to do, Arthur broke the short distance between them and kissed her reverently, before taking her into his arms and holding her in the silence of her room.

As the morning went by, Guinevere brightened up a little. Late in the morning Mr. Louden did his rounds. He checked the chart that hung from a sort of clipboard on the bottom of Guinevere's bed, and then Arthur stood back from the bed to let the surgeon examine her wound and ask her how she was feeling.

"When can I go home?" Guinevere asked, frowning at the surgeon. "I feel better, surely I could rest at home now?"

The surgeon met Guinevere's gaze and nodded sympathetically. "I do understand how you feel, Mrs. Pendragon. Most of our patients want to go home as soon as they feel better, but I want to keep you in just for a few more days, just until your stitches are out and you are moving just a little bit more freely. How is your pain now?"

Seeing no point in trying to convince the surgeon she was totally pain free, Guinevere answered the question honestly. "I'm still a bit sore," her face fell as she spoke, "but it is easier than it was," she added quickly. "The painkillers are helping."

"Well then," Mr. Louden nodded approvingly. "I'm sure your stitches will be out in a couple of days, and then, if I'm still happy with your wound, and I'm sure I will be because you have no signs of any infection, and if you still seem well in yourself, I'll be happy to let you go home, but you must promise me you'll take it easy for a while. I don't want you lifting so much as a kettle for six weeks, do you hear? You've had abdominal surgery and you must look after yourself." The surgeon's severe tone belied the kind expression in his eyes.

"I promise you, I won't lift a finger," Guinevere gifted the surgeon with her brightest smile, her mood changing now she had a more definite idea of when she would be able to go home.

"I'll make sure of it, don't you worry," Arthur added, telling himself he would wait on Guinevere hand and foot if it meant she made a complete recovery.

"There is just one more thing." The surgeon looked at Guinevere and Arthur meaningfully. "I mentioned it briefly to you on the day you came in, but I would highly recommend that you don't try to have another baby for a while. There is no fixed time span, but most surgeons would suggest you wait for three months, or two full cycles, just to let your body and your emotions sort themselves out. You've been through an ordeal, Mrs Pendragon," the surgeon continued to look between Arthur and Guinevere as he spoke. "I would give yourself time to recover."

Guinevere nodded thoughtfully, turning her attention to Arthur. "Well, we've got Llacheu and Amhar, haven't we, and Gwydre is still a part of us, so I think that's enough, don't you?"

Arthur nodded and swallowed hard when he thought of how strong Guinevere was being. He knew she was sad about the baby they'd lost, but the way she spoke so positively about not having any more children moved him in a way he couldn't explain.

"Well, you can discuss that amongst yourselves," Mr Louden said, preparing to go and see his next patient. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Guinevere looked at Arthur and then looked at the surgeon somewhat awkwardly. "I know you just said we shouldn't try for another baby yet, but does that mean we can't…..?" A hint of a blush touched her cheeks.

"Ahh, I see," the surgeon caught on to what Guinevere was asking at the same time as Arthur. The surgeon seemed completely unfazed, as if he was used to being asked such things every day. Arthur stood in some amazement that Guinevere might still want him after he'd behaved so badly towards her. He wondered if she would still want him when she knew everything.

"Well," the surgeon interrupted Arthur's train of thought. "Again, there is no specific rule about such things. You know your own body better than anyone, Mrs Pendragon, but I would recommend you give yourself some time to recover. We would usually suggest you wait six weeks to have intercourse, but if you feel ready before, there is no harm in it, but I would suggest you take things gently the first time." Mr Louden's eyes continued to drift between Arthur and Guinevere as he spoke.

A short time later, after asking if they had any more questions, Mr. Louden left Arthur and Guinevere alone. Taking his place on the side of her bed again, Arthur held her hand. "Are you quite sure you don't want any more children?" He asked the question softly and looked into her eyes for the truth.

Guinevere met Arthur's gaze and nodded. "I'm happy with what we have, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Arthur heaved a sigh. "I just don't want you to make a hasty decision," he explained, stroking her hand gently as he looked into her eyes. "After all of this," he went on, holding her hand tighter, "I admit the thought of you getting pregnant again terrifies me, but if you wanted to try for another baby I would support you, I promise."

Guinevere nodded thoughtfully. "After all this I just want to enjoy what we have, Arthur, do you understand? He nodded and she went on. "We have two beautiful children and we have our memories of Gwydre, and I just think there are times when you realise that it's enough, don't you?"

Not knowing what to say, Arthur moved and took Guinevere into his arms again. "I love you more than I can say, Guinevere." He held her close and inhaled her familiar scent, grateful beyond words that he'd got to keep her.

The rest of the day went by quickly. Soon it was time for Arthur to leave Guinevere to go and pick up the children from his father's. "Amhar was worried about me being late," he explained to Guinevere when he was preparing to leave her for a while.

Guinevere nodded as if Arthur was telling her something she already knew. "They've been like that for a while," she explained, trying to keep any accusation out of her voice. "I try to make a point of telling the children when they should expect me and what is going to happen, at least as much as possible. It's the unexpected things they haven't liked for a while, being late to be picked up, changes in their routine, that sort of thing. That's partly why I was so worried about leaving them with your father all night the other night."

"How long have they been like that?" Arthur asked, knowing the answer even before he asked the question. As far as he was concerned the children had always been fairly adaptable. They were used to spending time with their grandfather, they were used to Guinevere working. The thing they weren't used to was him being away from home so much over the last year. He'd seen the way Amhar had reacted when she wasn't sure he would arrive to pick her up from school the day after Guinevere was taken into hospital. He'd seen the doubt in her eyes that morning, when she was worried about him being late to pick her up from her grandfather's. He'd heard Llacheu asking him if Guinevere was going to die when she was taken into hospital. He'd seen his son's awkwardness with him when he was talking about his progress in maths at the dinner table. He'd even felt his own awkwardness when he tried to converse with his own children without Guinevere to steer the conversation at dinner. Arthur had already worked out for himself that his actions had made his children insecure, but to think of it going on for some time cut through him like a knife. He asked himself how he could do that to his own children, but there was no answer he could come up with.

Guinevere's hands were clasped loosely in her lap as she sat on the hospital bed. She looked into the blue of Arthur's eyes and saw the guilt he felt. Instinctively she wanted to comfort him, to absolve him of his behaviour over the last year or so, but she knew she couldn't do that. He needed to know the truth, that his behaviour had impacted on their children every bit as much as it had impacted on her. Looking down at her clasped hands, she sighed. "It's been since you started to go away so often," she forced herself to look up at Arthur's face after a moment and went on. "I think they both started to worry that we might both go away and they'd be alone."

Arthur visibly flinched at Guinevere's words, as if she'd struck him. His mind went back to his own childhood, the way he'd always felt very much a poor second best to his father's work. He remembered being left with the nanny a lot of the time, convinced that this time his father had finally lost any interest he might have in him and he'd left him alone.

"They'll deal with it, Arthur," Guinevere spoke in a small voice, seeing the pain in Arthur's eyes. "Now you're spending time with them again, they'll be better."

Arthur barely heard Guinevere speak. He shook his head. "How could I do that to my own children?" he asked, his voice straining under the weight of his feelings. "I know what it's like to feel alone as a child. I grew up convinced that my father didn't love me. I was sure all he really cared about was his business. I grew up feeling like he'd just slotted me into his life when it suited him, that I was an inconvenience he was putting up with until he'd had enough."

Guinevere blinked back tears as she listened to Arthur pouring out his feelings. "Your father does love you," she said, brokenly. "He loves you very much."

To Guinevere's relief, Arthur nodded. "I know that now," he almost trembled with emotion as he spoke. "But I didn't know then, not for years and years." A watery smile suddenly formed on his lips. "Have I ever told you, the first time I felt really loved was the first time you said it to me?"

Arthur cast his mind back through the years. After he'd first met Guinevere in their local pub, their relationship had flourished quickly. They spent every spare moment they could together. Sometimes they would go out for meals or to the cinema. At other times they would go for a drive into the Hampshire countryside and then leave the car somewhere and take long walks together, just the two of them.

Three months after they met, the fast growing bond between them had only strengthened. Arthur knew in his own mind, this was it, he'd met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but he couldn't quite bring himself to tell her how he felt. What if she didn't feel the same? What if she thought they were just having fun together and it would fizzle out in the end? He told himself Guinevere had given him no reason to think they were having a casual fling, but what if she didn't think they were serious? He wouldn't risk pushing her into something permanent she might not want by telling her how he felt, so he kept his mouth shut.

When they went out in the evenings Arthur would pick Guinevere up from her Dad's house. He would pick her up, take her out for a meal or whatever they planned to do, and then he'd take her home at the end of the evening. Most of the time he would kiss her on the doorstep, just as he'd done on the night they first met properly, but if her Dad was still up she would invite him in and the three of them would sit in the cosy living room of Guinevere's family home and they would talk for a while.

Arthur had really begun to like Mr. Leodegrance, or Tom, as he'd just been given to call Guinevere's father by his first name. He was approachable and warm. He clearly adored his daughter. Arthur sometimes sensed Tom was watching out for her, making sure her new boyfriend was behaving properly towards her, but Arthur never sensed that Tom thought of him as the enemy. The contrast between Tom and his own father was stark. Whereas Uther was remote and aloof, Tom's warmth shone in his manner. He asked Arthur about his work, appearing to take a genuine interest, but Arthur never felt like Tom was testing his suitability for his daughter, so he respected the older man and admired the way he cared for Guinevere.

On his lunch break from work one day, Arthur had phoned Guinevere to ask her if she wanted to spend the evening with him at his flat, instead of going out.

"We could go out if you want to," he said quickly, before Guinevere could formulate a reply. "I just thought it might be nice to get a takeaway or something and watch DVD's." He went on for another few minutes, trying to convince her of his idea for their evening, making sure she knew he had no ulterior motive in inviting her to his flat.

"Arthur?" Guinevere said simply, when Arthur stopped to draw breath.

"What?" Arthur said, apprehension writhing in his stomach.

"If you would just let me get a word in, I've been trying to tell you, a nice evening in would be lovely, thank you."

Looking back now, Arthur could still remember how relieved he was when Guinevere accepted his invitation. He picked her up that evening and they went to a local Indian takeaway they both liked, before taking their food back to the flat. They ate in the living room in front of a DVD on the television.

When the DVD was over, Arthur took the plates and the empty food cartons out into the kitchen. "I'll see to these in the morning, before I go to work," he said, when Guinevere got up and followed him. "I hate washing up, don't you?"

"Come on," Guinevere moved towards the sink and turned the hot tap on. "You don't want to leave these until the morning," she indicated the used plates as she spoke. "They'll stink the place out by then. Day old curry is perfectly fine to eat if you store it properly, but it's not fine when it's sat on dirty plates in the open air all night, so let's just get the washing up done. I'll wash up, you can dry up."

Guinevere's quiet determination had Arthur eating out of her hand. He felt like saying never mind the washing up, he'd agree to walking to the end of the earth for her if she asked, but he didn't want to make her feel awkward if she didn't feel the same, so he bit his tongue.

Guinevere washed up and Arthur grabbed a clean towel out of a drawer to dry up. He was so wrapped up in watching Guinevere's graceful movements and listening to her chat, telling him about her day and about how her Dad was getting on, he didn't realise he was holding one of the wet plates he'd picked up from the drainer on the draining board against himself for several minutes. He only snapped out of his dream when Guinevere moved to empty the sink when she'd finished the washing up. He quickly dried the plate he'd held against himself and turned to put it away.

As Arthur moved back to the sink, Guinevere turned to him. "Oh, look at you," she took the tea towel he had in his hands from him. "You've got a wet patch on your shirt, come here."

Before Arthur could open his mouth to say he didn't think what he knew she was about to do was a good idea, Guinevere took the towel and rubbed at the wet patch on his shirt, until it was nearly dry. "What are you like?" she beamed at him, still rubbing at the wet patch, which was just below his heart. Arthur could feel it pounding at her touch and willed himself to keep his hands to himself.

"You are hopeless," Guinevere was still beaming at him, her eyes warm with affection. "But I do love you."

For one split second Arthur couldn't move. He stood transfixed, unable to think or speak. Guinevere was still talking, but he couldn't think what she was talking about. The only thing he could hear was what Guinevere had just said to him.

"Arthur?" Guinevere's voice cut across his dream-like state after a while, when she'd got no response to anything she said. "Am I boring you?"

Ignoring her, Arthur gently took the tea towel out of her hands, put it down on the kitchen worktop and then he slipped his arms around her waist and gently pulled her towards him. "What did you just say to me?" he asked, his voice coming out lower than usual.

"I asked if I was boring you, I think I lost you there for a minute." Guinevere gave him the merest hint of a smile and put her arms around his neck. She seemed to do it automatically, without much thought.

Arthur shook his head. "Before that, you said something else to me. What did you say?"

Guinevere took a moment to think. Arthur watched her brow turn to a frown and he fought the urge to kiss it away. Then her eyes shone. "Oh, I said something about my Dad, I can't remember now." She shook her head.

Arthur decided to help her out. "You said I was hopeless." His voice was still low.

To Arthur's surprise, Guinevere went to take her arms from around his neck. She looked upset. "Have I offended you? I didn't mean to, I was teasing you, I..." She went to step away from him.

Arthur shook his head, silencing the woman in his arms. He let go of her for a moment, put her arms back around his neck and pulled her close again. The stunned disbelief in her eyes made him want to kiss her, but he spoke again instead, deciding that he could wait a moment for a kiss. "After you said I was hopeless, which is absolutely true by the way, you said something else to me. What did you say?"

Recognition flooded Guinevere's features and she flushed. "If it was too soon, I...I just thought...I thought you felt...and I felt...and..." She stammered and rambled.

Taking one arm away from her waist, Arthur placed his fingertips gently over her lips, stopping her nervous ramble. "What did you say to me, Guinevere?" he asked again. He adored the way she rambled when she was anxious, but he wanted to hear her say those words again. He took his fingers away from her lips when he was sure she wouldn't ramble again.

After a moment of silence, Guinevere's colour returned to normal. She steadied herself and looked into Arthur's eyes. She took a deep breath and then she found her voice. "I said, I love you." She never took her eyes off his face as she said the words he wanted to hear.

Arthur was transfixed again. He stared at Guinevere, watched her raise her chin almost defiantly, as if she was underlining what she said, as if she was daring him to contradict her. He had no thought of doing any such thing. Instead, he did what he'd wanted to do for several minutes. He pulled Guinevere against him and kissed her. He kissed her like he'd never kissed her before, pouring every ounce of what he felt for her into it. He held her as close as he dared, knowing he was on dangerous ground, knowing his body was already responding to her words and her closeness, but in that moment he didn't care. He wanted her to know what he felt for her, he wanted her to _feel_ what he felt.

When neither of them could breath, Arthur reluctantly pulled his lips away from Guinevere's. She gazed up at him, her eyes misty with emotion. The look on her face made Arthur swallow hard before he could speak. "I've been trying to find the nerve to say that to you," he admitted, shaking his head at himself. "I wanted to say it on that first night, at the pub," he confessed, smiling at the memory. "But I thought you'd think I was some crazed stalker or something, so I didn't say it. I've been trying to find the words ever since, but I didn't want to push you into saying it back, not if you didn't feel the same."

"How do you feel?" Guinevere asked, her eyes burning with tenderness. She raised a hand and caressed his cheek.

Arthur leaned into Guinevere's gentle touch and sighed. He knew he'd never felt like this in his life before. For the first time it felt like he really mattered to someone. He marvelled to think that this beautiful, clever, funny, relentlessly kind woman in his arms could love someone like him. He knew he would never deserve her, but he couldn't deny how he felt. He looked into the dark pools of her eyes and sighed softly. "I love you, Guinevere," he said, feeling the words right down to his bones. "I think I've loved you forever," and then he kissed her again.

Arthur's memory slipped away and he blinked.

Guinevere looked up at him as she sat on her hospital bed. "Where were you just now? She smiled up at him. "I think I lost you there for a minute."

Arthur shook his head, reminded of what she'd said to him years ago. "You didn't lose me," he leaned closer to her. "You could never lose me." He kissed her and then he gently pulled away, reminding himself that he really did need to go if he wasn't going to be late to pick up the children from his father's. "I'll see you a bit later, with the children."

Taken aback by Arthur's sentimentality, Guinevere let him go. He got as far as the door to her room and then smacked his forehead. "I knew I'd forget!"

"What?" Guinevere asked. "Have you forgotten something?" She glanced around the room.

Arthur walked back to the bed. "Can I borrow your car keys? It was towed back to the house this morning and I thought it would probably be best to put it in the garage for a while, because you won't be driving it for a few weeks."

Guinevere's eyes sparkled at the thought of her precious car. "Was it all right?" She looked concerned as she spoke. "I hope it didn't get scratched or anything while it was outside Alice's house, although, it's funny," her brows arched. "I can't say I'd given it much thought until now, isn't that strange?"

Arthur shook his head. "The car is fine, I had a good look at it." Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't think it's strange you haven't given it much thought," Arthur went on, his voice becoming more serious. "It shows how ill you were when you were brought in, doesn't it?"

Guinevere nodded thoughtfully and took one of Arthur's hands. "I really thought I was going to die you know, when I collapsed."

Arthur squeezed Guinevere's hand and heaved a sigh. "I know, but thank God you didn't."

Guinevere told Arthur that she was sure her car keys were with the rest of her things, in the small cupboard in the bedside table beside her bed. He bent down to open the cupboard and soon found her keys, nestled with her work uniform, which was folded neatly. "I could take your uniform home and wash it for you?" he suggested. "You won't want to wear that to go home in, will you?"

"You could take my uniform home," a smile danced in Guinevere's eyes as she spoke. "But leave washing it to me, thanks. I'll do it when I'm back on my feet a bit more."

Arthur stood upright from bending down to look in the cupboard, Guinevere's work uniform and her car keys in his hands. "Don't you trust me to wash your things?" he mock frowned at her.

Breaking into a wide smile, Guinevere shook her head. "I love you, Arthur, but there's no way I'm letting you loose on my washing."

Pretending to look wounded by what she said, while his mind latched onto her saying she loved him, Arthur held her car keys up to her. "But will you trust me to drive your car into the garage?"

Guinevere seemed to consider it for a moment, her eyes shining with amusement. "You'll be careful, won't you? I mean, I don't want my lovely car damaged."

Arthur crossed his heart in mock seriousness. He held the hand holding Guinevere's keys up higher, as if he was making a solemn oath. "I promise you, I will be careful. I hereby give you complete permission to make my life hell if your car sustains so much as a scratch on the paintwork."

Guinevere grinned broadly. "You know I'll take you up on that, Pendragon, so consider yourself warned." She winked at him cheekily.

Kissing her quickly again, Arthur left her, reminding her he'd see her later, with the children.


	16. Chapter 16

**Readers of my previous story, Six Weeks To Midnight, will remember that I used flashbacks quite a bit to tell Arthur and Guinevere's story. I felt the flashbacks were a useful story telling tool. They added depth to the story, they allowed me to show you some things I would only have been able to tell you about without them. They also allowed me to insert some light relief at times, because the subject matter of Six Weeks To Midnight was quite dark for long periods. I suddenly thought it would be nice to include a flashback in this and the moment Arthur and Guinevere first express their feelings for each other seemed to fit, so I included it in the previous chapter. The backdrop of Arthur's realisation that he has, however unintentionally, treated his children as he was once treated by his father, made me think again about his childhood. My incarnation of Uther does love Arthur and loved him when he was a child, but Uther was emotionally stunted, so I doubt he would have said the words much, if at all. The moment Guinevere says it, when their relationship was new, especially when she says it while they are doing such a mundane thing as washing up, felt significant to me, so I decided it deserved to be seen. I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Now onwards. Unless my muse decides to get over excited again, as it did in the previous chapter, we don't have too far to go with this story. There's enough, we are not done yet, but the end is in sight.**

Arthur just managed to get to his father's house within a reasonable time to pick up the children. Almost as soon as his father let him in Amhar practically threw herself at him and jumped into his arms. He picked her up and hugged her tightly, before putting her back down on her feet and then he ruffled Llacheu's hair affectionately, before sitting himself down on the sofa in the living room.

"They've been practically climbing the walls since I picked them up," Uther said, letting the children out through the French doors in the conservatory into the garden, to let off some of their energy. "Neither of them can wait to see Guinevere, it's all they've talked about."

"They haven't driven you too mad, have they?" Arthur asked, turning in his seat to watch the children through the windows for a moment. He watched them running around and kicking a football between them, before turning back to his father.

Uther shook his head and chuckled. "They've been fine, they're just looking forward to seeing their mother, that's all. It's natural they'd be excited. They've both missed her a great deal."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Have they said much to you about missing her? He watched his father sit down in his usual arm chair as he talked.

Uther shrugged. "They've asked me a couple of times when she'll be home, that sort of thing, but neither of them has said much. They are missing her though. I think it'll do them the world of good to see her this evening. How is she?"

Arthur smiled lightly. "She's not too bad, all things considered. She's still sore, but they've got her walking around a bit now. She gets tired quickly at the moment, but they said she would. She wants to come home more than anything."

Uther smiled brightly. "Well that's a good sign, isn't it?"

The bright smile on his father's face was yet another reminder of how much he had changed, Arthur thought. There was a time when he wouldn't have appeared to care about Guinevere, but now he appeared to regard her as a daughter and seemed to genuinely care about her.

"Of course it is," Arthur conceded. "I just want her to be really well before she comes home," he admitted, glancing out of the living room window to look at the children in the garden again. "She admitted today, she thought she was going to die when she collapsed." Arthur remembered the way he played down what Guinevere had said at the hospital, but now her words struck him and sent a cold shiver down his spine, along with the thought of what he would have to tell her when she came home. How could he tell her everything and cause her such worry after she'd been so ill, he asked himself.

"Guinevere is strong," Uther said, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "She's much stronger than you realise. She'll see the children this evening and that'll do her good and once she's home she'll recover quickly, you'll see."

Arthur nodded, not wanting to much more because he didn't want to confide too much in his father before he'd told Guinevere everything.

The time to drew on and Arthur stood to open the doors to the conservatory and call the children back into the house. "Come on you two," he stood back from the doors to let them in. "If we're going into town we need to make a move, and then we need to go home and have some dinner before we go and see Mummy. Say goodnight to Grandpa."

The children hugged their grandfather and kissed him. "Give Mummy my love and tell her I'll be seeing her soon." Uther winked conspiratorially at Arthur as he hugged his grandchildren tightly.

Uther followed Arthur and the children to the doorstep and waved them off as they got into Arthur's car.

"Right," Arthur said, as he pulled his car out of his father's driveway and into the main road. "Let's go and see if we can get Mummy some flowers and a nice card and you can both sign it when we get home, all right?" he spoke to the children through the rear view mirror as they sat in the back of the car.

"We need to find something really pretty for Mum," Llacheu said, his eyes shining at the thought of seeing his mother. "Mum likes pretty things, doesn't she Dad, and she's pretty too."

Arthur smiled wistfully at his son's innocent words. "Your Mum is beautiful Llachue, she's very beautiful."

Arthur drove through the early evening traffic and then parked the car. He parked down a quiet side street and then got out, before going to help the children out of the car. When they were both standing on the pavement safely, he locked the car. Taking both of the children by the hand, he set off with them to find a florist that was still open.

A short time later, when they'd walked for a while, Arthur pointed out a shop that had some beautiful arrangements of flowers in the window. When they got closer he could see the place was still open and pushed the door to let the children in, before following closely behind.

"What sort of flowers does Mummy like, Daddy?" Amhar asked, her eyes almost on stalks at the array of brightly coloured flowers in front of her.

Arthur looked around, giving some thought to what Guinevere would like. "Mummy likes all sorts of flowers, sweetheart," he replied, thinking that she'd probably like something simple from the children. His eye was caught by some bunches of flowers in a bucket on the floor, near a larger display. "Mummy likes these," he read the label to check if he was right. "Yes, these are called gerbera's, they are a sort of daisy."

"Like in the garden at home?" Llacheu asked, referring to the common daisies that popped up on the grass.

"That's right," Arthur nodded at his son. "Except, these are bigger, obviously, and we think of the daisies in the garden as weeds, but we think of these as flowers."

"Mum says weeds are just flowers where we don't want them, doesn't she?" Llacheu said, turning to Amhar, who nodded in agreement.

The children studied the flowers carefully. They were displayed in bunches of around a dozen, all of them various shades of pink and purple, from dark purple to the lightest pink. They looked natural and innocent, yet they were strikingly beautiful, exactly like Guinevere, Arthur thought. "What do you think?" he asked the children.

"Mummy will think they are pretty," Amhar beamed and Llacheu smiled his approval.

The decision made, Arthur carefully picked up a bunch of the gerbera's out of the bucket on the floor. They were wrapped in an elastic band to keep them together and then the bunch was wrapped in gift wrapping paper to make a simple, yet attractive arrangement.

Arthur was about to go and pay for the flowers when he had a thought. Moving to another display, he picked up a couple of bunches of yellow roses. "Mummy can have these from me," he explained to the children, who followed him towards a woman who was standing behind a counter at the back of the shop.

Arthur paid for the gerberas and then handed over the roses. "Can you arrange these into a bouquet?" he asked the woman, who was short and plump. Arthur had no idea how old the woman was, but something told him she was probably a bit younger than she looked. She had a careworn appearance, as if at some point in her life she'd carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Secretly Arthur wondered if business was as good as it might be in the shop and if she had a family to support. He felt a pang of sympathy for the woman, fully aware himself of what it felt like to run a business that could so easily fall apart around his ears, whilst also balancing the needs of a family. He'd been getting the balance all wrong for months, he told himself and had to hold back the urge to tell the woman not to make the same mistake.

"I certainly can, are these for your Mummy?" The woman addressed Llacheu and Amhar, speaking to them in a way that suggested she was used to young children. "Is it her birthday?"

Amhar looked up at the woman. "Mummy is poorly, she's been in the hospickle, she had to have an oper...an oper..." she stopped talking, tugged on her father's hand and when he bent to ask her what was wrong she whispered in his ear. "I can't 'member the word."

Arthur stood upright again and slipped his arm around his daughter, who had flushed, going temporarily shy at getting her words mixed up when talking to the stranger. "Mummy had to have an operation, didn't she?" he kept his tone light, so as not to add to Amhar's embarrassment. "Hopefully Mummy will be home soon," he went on, catching the eye of the woman behind the counter, "but we thought she'd like some flowers as a get well present, didn't we?"

The woman worked quickly as she spoke, combining the yellow roses with some simple greenery for an effective and striking bouquet. She showed the almost finished article to Arthur, who voiced his approval, before she wrapped the bouquet and handed it over. Arthur paid for it and thanked the woman for her time and effort.

"I hope your Mummy gets better soon," the woman smiled at the children and handed over Arthur's change.

Saying goodbye to the woman behind the counter as they went, the children followed Arthur out of the shop and back on to the street. "Now we just need to find a card," Arthur said, carrying the bouquet of roses in one hand and handing the gerberas to Llacheu to carry. Arthur held Amhar's hand with his free hand, trusting Llacheu to walk beside him because he was sensible enough not to run off.

Walking through the town, which was still quite busy because it was the end of the week and people often seemed to like to do their shopping on a Friday so that they had the weekend free, they eventually found a shop where they could buy cards and novelty gifts. Llacheu quickly spotted a card with a teddy bear in a hospital bed on the front. The teddy bear had a bandage around his head and a thermometer in his mouth. When Amhar expressed approval, saying she liked the card even if the teddy bear looked sad, Arthur knew they'd made up their minds. He paid for the card and the three of them made their way back to the car.

A couple of hours later, after negotiating through the traffic to get home, helping the children to sign the get well card for Guinevere and then preparing and then eating a simple dinner, Arthur told the children it was time to get ready to go and see their mother at the hospital. He sent them both upstairs to clean their teeth and made sure their hair was tidy, telling himself he didn't want Guinevere to think he hadn't looked after them properly. With the evening still warm, he told the children they probably wouldn't need jackets or coats because they would be in the car, and it wasn't too far from the car park to the hospital, so they wouldn't get cold.

"Daddy, my picture for Mummy!" Amhar cried out, as they approached the front door to go out. "I nearly forgot!"

"Where is it, darling?" Arthur asked. "Can you find it quickly?"

"I know where it is, it's in my bedroom." Anhar scampered up the stairs towards her room. Moments later she was back, holding a folded piece of paper in her hand as if it was a precious artefact.

"Come on then," Arthur steered the two children towards the front door. "Let's go and see Mummy."

A while later Arthur parked his car at the hospital. Though the temperatures had begun to drop from their height in the middle of the day, the evening was still bright and warm.

Arthur helped the children out of the car and he took Amhar's hand. He held his bouquet in his free hand, having handed the children's flowers to Llacheu. "You need to hold my hand across the car park," he warned Amhar, "and you need to stay close to me," he told Llacheu. "Cars and ambulances can still arrive, even at this time in the evening, so we don't want any accidents, do we? Mummy wouldn't be very happy if one of you ended up in the hospital, especially now she might be so close to coming home soon."

"When will she be home?" Llacheu looked up at his father expectantly.

For a moment Arthur wished he could have kept his mouth shut. Though Mr. Louden had sounded pleased with Guinevere's progress earlier in the day and gave every hope to think she would be going home in a couple of days, things could still go wrong and he didn't want to disappoint the children unless he really needed to. Then again, he thought, Mr. Louden said Guinevere had no sign of any infection and he did seem pleased with how she was doing, so maybe there was reason to hope. He pushed away his doubts, telling himself he was being unnecessarily pessimistic. Still, a note of caution still lingered in his mind. "She might be home in a couple of days, at the start of next week, if the doctor is still pleased with how she is doing, but we'll see." Llacheu seemed happy enough with Arthur's reply and his eyes lit up.

Guiding the children through the car park and into the entrance to the hospital, he took them up to Guinevere's department in the lift. All the time the children's eyes were everywhere, trying to take in their new surroundings. "You've both been here before," Arthur said, when the lift stopped and he was able to get out with the children. "But you won't remember."

The children both looked up at their father inquisitively. "When were we here?" Amhar asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. "It smells funny," she wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar smell in the air in the hospital.

"You were both born here, but not in this department," Arthur explained, as they walked down the corridor towards Guinevere's room. "It smells funny because hospitals have to be very clean, so that people who have had operations and people who are here because they are poorly can get better."

Amhar frowned for a moment as she processed that thought. "Well it still smells funny," she said a moment later, with an expression on her face that made Arthur chuckle.

"What about the other baby?" Llachue asked, his face solemn. "Mum said there was another baby, but he died."

Unprepared for Llacheu to mention Gwydre, Arthur was stunned for a moment. It never ceased to amaze him how the loss of Gwydre still seemed like a shock, no matter how much time had gone by. It was nearly nine years, he told himself, yet the unexpected mention of Gwydre's name still had the power to feel like a physical blow. He cleared his throat to hide the emotion the mention Gwydre's name still brought and forced the hint of a smile to his lips. "Yes, that's right," he nodded at Llacheu. "Gwydre was born here too."

"Mummy took us to the place where baby Gwydre is..." The word Amhar wanted was lost to her and she looked up at her father. "She said you couldn't come because you were busy."

Arthur felt as if he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He thought back a couple of months to Gwydre's birthday. He remembered the conversation he had with Guinevere the night before, when she asked him to go with her to the cemetery because she thought it was time to tell Llacheu and Amhar about their brother, but he told her he couldn't because he needed to go to Manchester. The knowledge of how much he'd failed her over and over again for months struck him again. How could he profess to love her when he'd treated her so badly? He asked himself the question he'd asked a dozen times since she was taken ill. He wondered how he was ever going to be able to put any of it right.

The door to Guinevere's room came into sight. As they approached, Arthur noticed the door open. He was a few feet away with the children, but he'd have known his father anywhere. He appeared to be attempting to manoeuvre another man in a wheelchair through the narrow doorway of the room. Tom, Arthur thought, his heart sinking slightly at what his father in law might have to say to him. When Uther finally managed to get the wheelchair through the doorway, he turned it into the corridor and spotted Arthur and the children.

"Grandpa and Grandad!" Both of the children cried out excitedly. Letting go of her father's hand, Amhar ran to her grandfather's, whilst Llacheu followed behind at a slower pace, still clutching Guinevere's flowers in his hand.

"Hello you two!" Tom greeted the children as Amhar practically threw herself into his arms, when Uther stopped pushing the wheelchair. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"We've come to see Mummy!" Amhar beamed, we've brought her some flowers and a card because she's poorly."

Arthur followed the children. He watched as Tom hugged Llachue and then his gaze settled on him as he approached. Arthur nodded at his father, before speaking to his father in law. "Hello Tom," he couldn't hide the apprehension in his voice. "How are you doing?"

Tom Leodegrance eyed his son in law steadily and nodded. "I'm all right son, you?"

Arthur nodded, still sensing his father in law's eyes on him. Tom didn't look angry. Arthur knew if Amhar was older he'd have had a lot to say to anyone who'd treated her as he'd treated Guinevere, but there was no resentment or anger in Tom's expression. When Arthur looked at his father in law closely, trying to gauge his mood, he saw disappointment in Tom's eyes. Somehow that felt worse than all the anger in the world.

After a moment, Arthur turned to the children. "Why don't you two go into Mummy's room?" He indicated the door on his left, just inside the department. "Just don't go jumping all over Mummy, will you? She's still feeling a little bit sore, all right? Tell her I'll be there in a moment, I'm just talking to Grandpa and Grandad."

Llacheu gently pushed at the door to Guinevere's room and the two children went inside. Llachue was still clutching the gerberas they'd bought for Guinevere, whilst Amhar was holding the picture she'd drawn and the envelope with the card inside that both of the children had signed. Arthur just heard Guinevere greet the children went they went into the room. "Hello my darlings!" Her familiar voice rang out excitedly, before the door closed and there was silence again.

When the door to Guinevere's room closed, Arthur had no idea what to say. He knew he owed Tom some sort of explanation for his behaviour, but he was still conscious that Guinevere didn't know everything yet. In any case, he told himself, nothing excused how he'd behaved. He eyed his father for some clue of how to express his guilt, but Uther stood back slightly from Tom's chair and waited for whatever happened next, though he did give his son a small nod of encouragement.

"Look Tom, I..." Arthur began, without any thought of how he was going to continue.

Arthur's voice halted abruptly when Tom Leodegrance opened his mouth and looked him straight in the eyes. "You are a bloody fool, aren't you?" There was still no anger in Tom's tone, he never even raised his voice. He shook his head as he spoke, as if he was trying to work out something he just didn't understand. "What the bloody hell have you been playing at, that's all I want to know?"

Arthur shook his head. He could almost feel Tom's bewilderment. "Tom, I'm so sorry," he inhaled sharply as he spoke. "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am, or to explain my actions in any way. I just…" he paused, trying to think of a way to explain himself without saying too much. He gave up, knowing there was no explanation he could offer. "You're quite right, I'm a bloody fool," he went on. "These last few days have shown me what a bloody fool I am. I don't deserve her Tom, I know I'll never deserve her, but if I'd lost her, I..." He swallowed hard, the thought of how close he'd come to losing Guinevere forever hitting him again.

"Yes, well, it didn't come to that, thank God," Tom heaved a sigh."I just don't understand how you could do what you've done." Tom's voice echoed the incredulity in his eyes. "After everything you've been through, what on earth was so bad that you couldn't face it with Gwen? What the bloody hell made you think that running away from your wife and children was the answer?"

Arthur wanted to deny running away. Every fibre of his being recoiled at the thought that he'd run away from his problems and abandoned his family, but as he looked into the stunned disbelief on Tom's face, he knew that was exactly what he'd done. Hating himself, he shook his head. "I can't even begin to offer any sort of an explanation, Tom." He forced himself to look into his father in law's eyes. "I thought I was doing it for her own good, for the good of her and the children," he went on, taking his eyes off Tom's face at last and looking down at his feet as shame coursed through him. "I was wrong, I know that now. I'll do whatever it takes to fix it Tom, I swear."

Tom nodded thoughtfully. "Do you still love her?"

Arthur looked up sharply into his father in law's eyes. "More than my own life."

"Yes, well," Tom signed again. "Just don't go letting her down again, that's all. My daughter thinks the sun shines out of you, she has from the moment she came home and told me she'd met someone in the pub and let him walk her home. I gave her the third degree that night, did you know that? I couldn't understand what my sensible, clever daughter was thinking, letting a strange young man walk her home in the dark, but she said she trusted you. I know it was hard later, after Gwydre died. I know that was impossible for both of you to deal with, but Gwen learned to trust you again and she's never wavered since. All through these last months she's made excuse after excuse for you, because she loves you and those kids more than anything else in the world, but you've kept on letting her down. Just don't let her down again Arthur, I'm warning you, because if you do, you'll regret it. Just think," Tom's voice became heavy and low as he continued to speak. "Just think about what it might have been like for you if you _had_ lost her this week. I know what it's like to lose a wife, Arthur. I know, as your father does, what it's like to go on without the woman who makes life worth living and makes it all make sense. If Gwen had died the other day, you would have had to go on without her for the sake of those kids in there." Tom pointed to Guinevere's room and Arthur saw the way his hands shook as he spoke. "You would have had to go on, as much as I know you probably think you couldn't have gone on without her, but I don't know how you would have coped with the guilt you would have felt for all the time you would have lost, because believe me, that's hard enough to live with when you've spent every possible moment with the person you love, because no matter how much time you've spent together, when they have gone you realise it was never enough."

Arthur had no idea what to say to that. Tom still hadn't raised his voice, not once, but he'd still managed to convey what he thought of his son in law's behaviour. The disappointment in Tom's eyes stung Arthur more than if he'd had ranted and raved at him. "I'll put it right Tom," he promised solemnly. "I'll do whatever it takes, I mean it."

"Yes, well, just think about what I've said, that's all, and make sure you do mean it this time."

With that, Tom told Uther it was time they were off. Uther gave his son a conciliatory pat on the shoulder and then he started to push his friend's wheelchair down the corridor. When they were out of sight, Arthur breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He knew every word Tom said was true. He had let Guinevere down again and again. Not for the first time that week, he realised how lucky he was that he still had a chance to put it right. The thought filled him with gratitude and filled him with an urge to be near the woman he loved. Taking a steadying breath, he opened the door to her room and stepped inside.

When Arthur walked into Guinevere's room he couldn't believe the sight in front of him. Guinevere was lay in bed by now, with Llacheu and Amhar lay on top of the bedclothes, tucked into both of her sides. Guinevere had an arm around each of the children and smiled contentedly up at Arthur when he walked into the room.

"Hello you," Guinevere's eyes shone brightly. "I was starting to wonder where you'd got to."

Arthur stepped forward and leaned over Llacheu, who lay on his mother's left side, his head resting against her chest. Arthur kissed Guinevere softly on the lips and then stood upright again. "I thought I told you two not to climb all over your mother," he chided the children, but there was no anger in his tone. He shook his head.

Llacheu went to get up, but Guinevere gently pulled him back down so that he was nestled in the circle of her left arm again. "They're all right," she rolled her eyes at Arthur. "Don't fuss, we're having a cuddle, that's all."

The card the children had signed stood in pride of place on her bedside table, along with the picture of brightly coloured flowers that Amhar had drawn at pre-school. The bunch of gerberas were lay in the chair by the side of the bed. Guinevere's eye turned to the flowers and she smiled. "The children said you took them shopping, thank you. I love gerberas."

"I remember," Arthur sighed, gazing into the light in Guinevere's eyes. Then he remembered the bouquet of roses in his hand and handed them over to her to see."I remembered you love roses too, so these are from me." He bent and kissed her again and she thanked him for the roses quietly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, placing the bouquet of roses in the chair beside the gerberas, before standing upright again. "It seems like ages since I saw you this afternoon."

"I'm much better now," the tenderness in Guinevere's eyes told a story of their own. Seeing the children had already done her good, it was written all over her face.

"You gave Mummy your picture then?" Arthur addressed Amhar, who was tucked into her mother's right side, her head resting on Guinevere's breast.

Amhar nodded and tilted her head to look at her mother's face. "The teacher let me do it because I cried because you were in the hospickle, Mummy."

Guinevere held her daughter against her tightly for a moment and Arthur saw her blink a few times to compose herself before she spoke. "Never mind darling," she almost whispered the words, her voice was full of emotion. "Hopefully I'll be home again very soon, so don't you worry. Did you enjoy staying with Grandpa the other night?" she addressed both children. Arthur heard the way she was trying to sound as cheerful as possible for the children's sake, but as she spoke he could see in her eyes how much she'd missed them in the few days she'd been parted from them.

"We had a cooked breakfast at Grandpa's house." Llacheu looked up at his mother affectionately.

"Oh, did you now?" Guinevere smiled lovingly at her son. "Not just cereal and maybe some toast like at home then?" She winked at Llacheu and he giggled. "So what did you have then, did Mummy and Daddy miss something nice?" She spoke to both children again, giving each one of them the same attention.

"We had eggs and bacon and a sausage," Amhar ticked off each item on her fingers. "We had some squidgy things too, but I didn't like those." She pulled a face.

Arthur looked at Guinevere, partly wondering when his father might have learned to cook breakfasts, but he also had no idea what the 'squidgy' things his father might have tried to feed to the children were. Guinevere shrugged as if she had no idea, and then her eyes lit up and she smiled. Stroking Amhar's hair gently, she spoke to her. "Do you mean mushrooms, darling?"

Arthur wondered how Guinevere had worked that out when Amhar nodded animatedly. "They were yucky, but I liked everything else." She beamed and both Arthur and Guinevere laughed.

"I helped Dad to find everything you would need at the hospital, Mum," Llachue said, sitting up now and reaching for his mother's hand. "I helped him find some things for us to take to Grandpa's too, did I get all your things right?"

Guinevere gazed up at her son like a person who had been walking in the desert for days, desperate for a drink, and he was a glass of water. She seemed to be soaking up the sight of both of the children and hung on every word they said. "You did very well my darling," she gripped his hand in hers and caressed his fingers, as if she was memorising his touch. "You're a clever boy, and you've both brought me some beautiful flowers and a card, and you've drawn me a lovely picture," she gave Amhar a gentle squeeze. "Aren't I lucky?"

Arthur suddenly had a thought and turned his attention to Llacheu. "Did you tell Mum about doing so well in maths?"

"What's this?" Guinevere turned her attention to her son and he looked back at her awkwardly, his shyness of being singled out for attention rearing it's head.

"I got a star in maths for knowing most of my five times table, that's all." Llachue blushed almost to his hairline as he spoke.

"Oh well done Llachue," Guinevere beamed with pleasure. She kissed his hand, the only part of him she could reach now he was sitting. "That's the second star in maths in the last few weeks, you really are doing well!"

"The second star?" Arthur butted in, his eyes drifting between his wife and son. "When did you get the other one?" He hoped he sounded interested, rather than sounding like he was accusing his son of not telling him something.

Before Llachue could formulate a reply, Guinevere spoke up. Holding Llachue's hand and caressing his fingers again, she met her husband's confused expression. "It was when you were away in Manchester. You weren't here to tell and with everything that's happened in the last few weeks, it slipped my mind to mention it." She watched Arthur's face fall and saw the guilt in his eyes. "Still, never mind that now," she looked between her children and her husband, "you are doing very well Llachue, we're very proud of you, aren't we Arthur?"

Arthur nodded firmly, thanking Guinevere with his eyes for distracting him from the guilt he still felt. He looked into the dark eyes of his son and beamed. "You see, I told you your Mum would be pleased, didn't I?"

Later, Jackie, the nurse, popped into the room to check on Guinevere and she introduced the children. "I've heard such a lot about you both," she smiled at the children warmly. "Your Mum has told me all about you."

Jackie picked up Guinevere's flowers from the chair and offered to put them in water. She slipped quietly from the room and came back a while later, the roses and gerberas arranged cleverly together in a glass vase, which she placed carefully on Guinevere's bedside table, making sure it was well away from the lamp on there. She also made sure Guinevere could still see her card and the picture Amhar had drawn because she'd moved them slightly to put the vase down. When she was finished, she said goodnight to the family and told Guinevere she would see her in the morning.

"I didn't know flower arranging was a prerequisite for nursing," Arthur joked, as Jackie was about to leave the room.

"I'm a woman of many skills," Jackie bantered back with a wink. "Have a good night, all of you." She smiled warmly at the family gathered around Guinevere's bed and then she left them alone.

Arthur and the children stayed with Guinevere for an hour. Towards the end of visiting time Arthur could see Guinevere was becoming tired. She was staying awake, but every now and then she would stifle a yawn. She was also having to make more of an effort to concentrate on what the children said to her. The children continued to chat to to her, but every so often she needed to ask them to repeat something they said when she missed something.

Eventually, Arthur looked out of the window on the opposite side of the room from the bed, across the grounds of the hospital. He could see the sun had set and the light was starting to fade. Reluctantly, he turned to the children. "It's time we were going," he sighed, knowing the children would be disappointed. "We should let Mummy get some rest now and it's nearly your bedtime." He knew they liked to give the children the same bedtime as much as possible. On school nights bedtime was a fixed rule, but even at the end of the week they tried not to keep the children up too late. It avoided the tantrums Amhar was prone to if she missed any sleep.

Looking like they really didn't want to move at all, the children leaned towards their mother for one last hug and a kiss. "It's been lovely to see you both," Guinevere embraced them as tightly as she could. She kissed them both and Arthur sensed her reluctance to part with them again. "Be good for Daddy. I'll be back at home with you both before you know it." Guinevere gave the children one last hug and they both got down from the bed.

When the children were back on their feet, Arthur opened the door to Guinevere's room. "Go and stand in the corridor for just a minute," he told the children. "I just want a quick word with Mummy, so stand there and don't move, all right? I won't be a minute."

Knowing the children would be all right for a minute, Arthur closed the door and turned his attention back to Guinevere. She smiled up at him from the bed. "Thank you for bringing the children, it's been lovely to see them. They look tidy, you've been doing well."

Arthur shook his head dismissively, though deep down he glowed at her praise. "You don't need to thank me for anything," he sighed. "My father has helped with the children, so it hasn't all been me. To be honest, it's about time I spent some time with them. I haven't done it much lately, have I?"

Guinevere frowned at the solemn look on Arthur's face. He had moved now and perched himself on the side of the bed, in the same spot Llachue had occupied just moments before. She took his hand and traced his fingers, much the same as she'd done with Llachue earlier, except now she looked worried. "What did my Dad say to you, and don't lie to me Arthur, I know he said something, it was written all over your face when you came in."

Arthur shrugged and released a breath. Guinevere had always been able to see through him. Right from the moment they met, she'd seen through his bravado and arrogance to his insecurities, and yet she'd loved him anyway, even when he failed her. "Tom didn't say anything I didn't deserve," he sighed heavily. "He just reminded me of what a fool I've been and how much I've let you down. He also reminded me of the guilt I would have had to live with if I'd lost you, that's all."

Guinevere shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Well you didn't lose me, did you? I'm still here, Arthur. My Dad had no right to have a go at you." Dismay lingered in her gaze when she looked up at him.

Arthur shook his head. "Your Dad didn't have a go at me, not really," he sighed heavily and took her hand in his, grasping it tightly, as if he didn't want to let go of her. "He just told me a few home truths, and he has every right, he's your Dad, he loves you."

Guinevere gifted him with a watery smile, which slipped away quickly. "I just don't want you to feel any more guilty than you already do, and don't bother denying it," she eyed him sternly for a moment. "I know you feel guilty, it was written all over your face when I told you about the star in Maths Llachue got while you were away, but there's no point in fretting about it now, is there? What's done is done, Arthur, and it's over now, isn't it?"

"It doesn't alter the fact though, does it?" Arthur was stunned at Guinevere's capacity to forgive. He held her hand tighter and brought it to his mouth to kiss her wedding ring reverently. "I just hope you feel the same when you know all of it, that's all."

Guinevere looked steadily into Arthur's eyes. "Look, I don't know what is going on, but whatever it is, we'll sort it out. Nothing is worse than everything we've been through Arthur, absolutely nothing, so whatever it is, we'll face it together, but you have to let me help you. That's all I want Arthur, I need you to let me help you."

Arthur stood and moved to the side of the bed. Gently easing Guinevere into a sitting position, he took her in his arms and held her quietly for a moment. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asked, dropping a kiss into into her hair.

Looking up at his face, Guinevere smiled tenderly and nodded. "You didn't mention it for a while, but just this week you've mentioned it a few times. You should watch it you know, my ego will end up bigger than yours," and then she grinned at him.

Laughing at her unexpected comment, Arthur kissed her again. "Just you wait," he warned her, a suggestive twinkle in his eyes. "In a few weeks time you'll pay for that, I'll show you exactly how big my _ego_ is."

Guinevere's mouth fell open in mock shock and then she virtually leered at him. "Promises, promises, Pendragon."

A few moments later, after one more kiss, Arthur said goodnight and told Guinevere he would see her the next day.

"You should spend some time with the children this weekend," she became serious now. "You shouldn't worry about me for a couple of days, spend some time with the children, take them out or something. I'll be fine, and in any case, I'll be home on Monday, even if I have to turn on my feminine wiles to Mr. Louden." The serious look on Guinevere's face transformed into a cheeky smile.

Arthur considered what Guinevere said. "I suppose I could take them out tomorrow," he thought out loud. "I could take them out during the day for a while, and then I could ask my father to childmind tomorrow evening so that I could come and see you, but would you be all right all day?"

Guinevere pretended to think it through. "I'm sure I could muddle along for a few hours without you." Then her face transformed into a wide smile. "I'll be perfectly fine, now get out of here and take my children home."

With one final snatched kiss, Arthur left Guinevere alone. The children were waiting patiently outside the room. He hugged them both against him for a moment and then he took their hands in his. "Come on you two," he sighed contentedly, suddenly feeling happier than he had for months. "Let's go home."


	17. Chapter 17

**Many thanks to those of you who took the time to write reviews for the previous chapter, I do appreciate it.**

 **I am glad that the dressing down Tom gave Arthur in the previous chapter appears to have gone down well. I quite enjoyed writing it. I always think Tom is a bit of a blank slate as a character. In the series he is a good man, there's no doubt about that, but I don't think we get enough of him to formulate much of an idea of what he was like, so I took the liberty of making him a bit of a cross between my late Dad and my brother, with a few characteristics of his own thrown in. I think if a man treated me as Arthur has treated Guinevere, albeit unintentionally, my Dad would have made his displeasure evident, but the Dad I knew in the later part of his life would have done it in quite a measured way, to make a point. The challenge for me in the previous chapter was to convey Tom's bewilderment over Arthur's behaviour and let him express what he thought, without making him come across as an interfering bully, so I hope I've achieved that. I also tried to interweave the idea that perhaps Tom's second stroke has removed some of his inhibitions, that sense that most of us have of knowing we can't say certain things in certain situations, so the Tom of Six Weeks To Midnight, basically a good man who is defensive of his daughter, has an additional bit of edge. Arthur caught the brunt of that bit of edge and fully deserved it, but it did feel right to me to write Guinevere as being momentarily less than impressed at what her Dad had done, whilst Arthur knows perfectly well he deserved it.**

 **I should point out that the zoo I refer to in this chapter is Marwell Zoo. I've never been there, but I have researched it a little and I also take some artistic licence with it. However, it is just outside Winchester, where my story is set, so it seemed to fit. Oh, by the way, I am still offering a brownie point for anyone who can comment with an explanation as to why I have set the story in Winchester. It is relevant, that's the only clue you are getting. Just one last thing to warn you of is that I will be busy and somewhat distracted for the next week or so, so please bear with me for the next chapter. I promise to do my best to reward your patience.**

It took Arthur some time to settle the children down when they got home from seeing Guinevere. They had already cleaned their teeth before they went out, so Arthur told them it was bedtime when they got back. All the way upstairs they chatted excitedly about seeing their mother and about how much they couldn't wait for her to come home from the hospital, though Arthur sensed that seeing her had made the separation from her easier for them, because they'd seen where she was and that she was doing much better.

Arthur was just about to send Llachue to his room to change for bed while he followed Amhar to help her get ready for the night when he had a thought. All the way home, while the children talked animatedly in the back of the car, just needing the occasional yes or no from him, he'd been thinking about what he could do with the children the next day. Taking them out did seem like a good idea, he thought, thinking back to his conversation with Guinevere, but where?

"Listen you two," Arthur said, as Llachue was about to go to his room. He stopped walking and turned to look up at his father. "I was thinking," he cleared his throat awkwardly and went on. "Actually that's not quite true," he corrected himself. "Your Mum and I wondered if you fancied doing something with me tomorrow, do you fancy going out or something?"

Llachue's eyes widened in surprise. "Where could we go?" he asked, still gazing up at his father.

Arthur thought for a moment. "Well," he spoke again. "I don't want too go far away, because I want to be back by the evening, so that I can go and see your Mum for a while, but she told me that she'll be quite happy on her own at the hospital for a little while, so if you want to go out somewhere, we'll go."

Amhar looked up at her father, her eyes wide with excitement. "Can we go to the zoo, we could feed the giraffes and see the tigers," she growled at her father in a pretty good impression of a tiger and he laughed. He was a bit surprised she remembered the zoo, she'd been very young when they went to the local zoo the last time, but perhaps Llachue had told her about it, he reasoned.

"What about you Llachue, do you fancy the zoo?" he asked, turning his attention to his son. "We don't have to, we could do the zoo another day, when Mummy is better and can go with us, if you like, but if you fancy it..." he let the thought hang in the air, waiting for Llachue to reply.

"But what about Mum?" Llachue said, his face forming into a frown. "Won't she be lonely on her own?"

Arthur was touched by Llachue's concern for his mother. It was typical, he mused. Llachue was sweet tempered, almost shy, rather a lot like Guinevere, he mused. He had also inherited her kindness and thoughtfulness for other people's feelings. The only way Llachue resembled him, at least in his temperament, he thought, was his sporty nature and the competitiveness that went with it, although in Llachue's case even that was tempered by his natural gentleness, a spirit that was entirely his mother's.

Arthur moved towards his son and hugged him. "I promise you Llachue," he knelt on the carpeted floor in the upstairs hallway, near the door to Llachue's bedroom. "If I thought for a moment your Mum would need us near her, I wouldn't even think of going out and leaving her alone, but she told me this evening, before we came home, she'll be fine for a few hours. Maybe it'll be good," he reasoned, trying to explain in a way that Llachue would understand. "If we go out tomorrow, I'll have something different to tell your Mum about tomorrow evening, won't I? Also," he went on thoughtfully, "if your Mum gets some rest tomorrow, it might help her to feel even better, so maybe the doctor will let her come home very soon."

Llachue considered this thought carefully. "We wouldn't go very far?" he asked, as if he was weighing up the idea.

Arthur shook his head. "No, the zoo is close by, just a few miles away, so we could be there and back quite quickly, if Mum needed us, but I'm sure she won't. I also gave your Mum her mobile phone back today," he remembered that he'd been carrying the phone in his pocket since Lance had returned it to him when Guinevere was taken into hospital. Guinevere had finally asked if he'd seen it when he brought her work uniform home for the wash, so he'd handed it over to her. "If your Mum needs us, all she has to do is call me and we could come straight home."

"Could we take some sandwiches and play on the adventure playground at the zoo?" Llachue's face split into a wide smile at last.

Arthur grinned and ruffled his son's hair. "We can do what you like," he said. "Well, _almost_ ," he amended, to stop the children getting ideas.

Once the children were settled for the night Arthur phoned his father and asked if he would mind looking after the children for a while the following evening, explaining to him that he was taking them out during the day for a while.

"Where are you going?" Uther asked down the phone.

"Oh, just to the zoo, I let the children decide where they wanted to go," Arthur replied, wondering why his father wanted to know. "Llachue didn't want to go too far away in case Guinevere needs us," he explained. "I don't want to be too far away either," he admitted, telling himself he was being silly. Guinevere was doing well, he told himself. She was much better. She'd encouraged him to take the children out. Still, it didn't stop the vague sense of worry he felt. Deep down he knew he would worry until she was home.

"I just wondered if you could do with another pair of hands," Uther said. "Taking both of them out on your own won't be easy."

A prickle of irritation went down Arthur's spine. "I'm quite capable of managing my own children on my own, father," he snapped.

"I didn't say you couldn't manage them, Arthur." Uther replied reasonably, deliberately ignoring the way his son had snapped so sharply at him. "I wasn't criticising, I was offering a hand, if you want it."

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and counted to ten in his head. Why did his father still make him feel so inadequate? he asked himself. For years his father had questioned him. Why do you want to do this? Why do you want to do that? For years he'd had to justify every decision he made, from the exams he took at school, to the course he studied at college and then his decision to move into a flat. Uther had even questioned his decision to have a church wedding with Guinevere, reminding him that they'd never been churchgoers. Arthur stood by his decision, telling his father it was important to Guinevere, so it was important to him. Uther had sniggered in response and then said nothing directly, but right up until the wedding he dropped some less than subtle hints about how much cheaper registry office weddings were. Still, Arthur reasoned, still holding the phone in his hand, his father wasn't like that now, so why did he still feel like he had to explain everything to him and why did his approval matter now?

Taking a deep breath, Arthur thought. It would probably be easier to take the children out with someone else. He'd taken them out for short journeys on his own from time to time, but Guinevere had been with him when they'd gone out for day trips when the children were both a bit younger. She'd have one child and he'd have the other and they would manage, he reminded himself. What if something happened at the zoo? What if he left one of them somewhere and something happened? What if one of them needed the toilet or something, he could hardly leave the other one on their own to take the other child to the toilet, could he? The children would also probably enjoy going out with their grandfather, he reminded himself.

Making a decision, Arthur spoke. "I'm sorry I snapped," he apologised. "It's just been one of those weeks." He knew that wasn't entirely true, although it _had_ been a rough week, but it would do as some sort of an explanation of why he'd bitten his father's head off unnecessarily. Delving into why he still wanted his father's approval now, at his age, was just too complicated, it would open up too many cans of worms that were best left in the past.

"Forget it," Uther said, as if nothing out of place had been said. "You've had a rough time over the last few days. You're bound to feel a bit ragged. That's why I offered a hand, if you want it, but it's entirely up to you."

"I'd appreciate it," Arthur sighed as he spoke. "The children would love you to come."

"Do you want me to bring anything?" Uther asked, sounding almost unnaturally cheerful. "I could put some things for a picnic together, if it would help?"

Arthur sensed his father almost tip-toeing around him, as if he was trying to negotiate his way through a minefield. "A picnic would be nice, the children would probably enjoy that more than a few sandwiches and a can of fizzy drink," he conceded, breaking into a half-hearted smile. "That's if it's no trouble," he added.

Arthur could almost hear his father rolling his eyes. "It's no trouble Arthur, I'm sure to have some things in the fridge. I always get some things in for the children while they are here. They often like a small snack when they come home from school."

Arthur fought an urge to remind his father that snacking had almost been forbidden when he was young. Some of the nannies he'd had as a child had given him snacks secretly, when his father was working, but when his father was at home all eating was done at meal times. Reminding himself that he'd already snapped at his father once, Arthur pushed the urge away.

"Do you want to come here first and go in my car?" Uther interrupted Arthur's train of thought. "I don't mind driving."

Without thinking, Arthur shook his head. It had been a long time since he'd been driven by his father. As a teenager he'd had some of his biggest arguments with his father in the car, when they were both trapped in a relatively confined space and his father had total control. "No, we'll come and pick you up," Arthur said decisively. "Would around half ten in the morning be all right?"

"Half ten would be fine, I'll see you all then, goodnight Arthur."

After saying goodnight, Arthur put the phone down. He yawned widely, suddenly feeling tired. He wondered how he was going to sleep that night, knowing he'd struggled with Guinevere's absence so far. He went upstairs and got ready for bed. He was conscious of the empty space on the other side of the bed. He tried turning onto his other side, thinking that if he couldn't see the space in front of him, his mind might relax enough to sleep. It was no use. He lay in the dark for a moment, telling himself that ignoring the empty space was like when the children were little. He remembered playing hide and seek with them, knowing they had a habit of hiding in obvious places, like behind the curtains in one of the bedrooms in the house. He would creep up on them, pretending to be surprised that they had hidden somewhere so obvious, knowing they'd been there all along, standing with their hands over their eyes, thinking that if they couldn't see their father, he wouldn't see them.

Turning his bedside lamp back on, Arthur grabbed a pillow from Guinevere's side of the bed. He turned it vertically, so that it rested upright against Guinevere's other pillow. Pulling it closer, Arthur could smell Guinevere's familiar scent on the cotton fabric. He pulled it closer still and hugged it against him, filling his senses with her. He turned the light out and lay down again, hauling the pillow against his chest and wrapping his arms around it. Moments later he fell into a deep sleep.

Over breakfast the next morning, Arthur told Llachue and Amhar their Grandpa was going with them to the zoo. The children cheered as if a national holiday had been announced and their faces lit up with joy.

"Grandpa thought you might like a picnic lunch at the zoo," Arthur explained, when the children had quietened down, though their excitement still shone in their eyes. "So he's going to bring some food with him and we'll find a nice spot to have our lunch later." He glanced out through the kitchen window as he spoke, noting the early morning mist, a sign that usually indicated a warm summer day was ahead. Changing the subject, he turned back to the children. "Now, what animals do you really want to see today?"

The children reeled off all of the animals they wanted to see and everything they wanted to do at the zoo. "Can we go on the train around the park?" Llachue asked brightly. "I remember that from last time, it was fun."

"We'll try," Arthur said, reluctant to make too many promises.

"I want to see the penguins, Daddy," Amhar said, finishing her breakfast and putting her spoon back into her empty cereal bowl. "I don't want to see the snakes, I don't like those," she shuddered.

Arthur recollected the last time they'd gone to the local zoo. Amhar had been getting on for three years old and loved seeing the animals. He could still see her laughing at the penguins with their funny walk on the land and their speed through the water, when they walked through the zoo's underground cave. The cave, cleverly designed into the penguin enclosure, that was itself designed to resemble a natural cove, having been built in a rocky outcrop, complete with a pebble beach and a stream, had a glass ceiling, so as visitors walked through they could watch the penguins swimming above their heads. Amhar had been enchanted.

The only animals Amhar had instinctively disliked was the reptiles, with their beady eyes and unpredictable movements. One of the keepers had introduced them to a boa constrictor who was described as friendly. Llachue, being a little older, had taken great interest and was given a chance to touch the snake, though he still eyed his mother to make sure doing any such thing was a good idea. When Guinevere nodded and gently encouraged him by giving the snake a stroke, Llachue stretched out his hand. Arthur smiled at the memory of Llachue's expression when he discovered the snake was warm to the touch, not cold and slippery as he expected. Amhar, even at that young age usually the more outgoing and adventurous of the children, had taken one look, screamed and practically jumped into Arthur's arms, burying her face in his neck until there was some distance between her and the offending creature.

"We'll try to see everything you really want to see," Arthur said, standing to pick up the children's empty breakfast bowls and put them in the sink. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, today is for fun."

Some time later, with the children dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and caps were on their heads to keep the sun off as the day grew warmer, Arthur grabbed a bottle of high factor sun screen for the children out of the bathroom and shepherded them out to the car. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt himself, he looked up at the cloudless blue skies. The mist from a couple of hours before had completely burned away as the temperature began to rise, leaving the promise of a beautiful summer's day in its wake.

A while later, Arthur stopped his car on the drive of his former family home. His father was already on the doorstep, locking his front door with one hand, while in the other he held a dark red Thermos flask. On the ground, at his feet, a dark blue cool box with a black plastic lid stood, until Uther had locked his front door securely, when he clipped the keyring his keys were on to a loop on the jeans he wore and then picked up the cool box in his free hand.

Turning as Arthur turned off the car's engine, Uther's face broke into a warm smile. He waved to the children as they sat in the back seat of the car and they waved back enthusiastically. Arthur got out of the car and greeted his father.

"We picked a good day for this," Uther smiled, relinquishing his hold on the cool box surprisingly easily, Arthur thought, though he schooled his features not to show anything. "It looks like it's going to be a lovely day."

"At least it's dry," Arthur nodded in agreement. "It looks like it might even be hot later."

"Ah well, I've packed plenty of drinks, so we should be all right. I've packed some juice for the children and some soft drinks for us," Uther said, walking with Arthur towards the car. "I was tempted to pack a bottle of wine, but with you driving, I thought..."

Uther left the rest of his thought for Arthur to fill in. "It is probably best to stick to soft drinks, especially if it does turn out hot," Arthur opened one of the car's rear doors as he spoke. "If we have wine, these two," he grinned at his children on the back seat and they both giggled, "will end up driving us home." The children laughed as Arthur placed the cool box down in a space on the back seat of the car. There was just enough room for the cool box on the seat without it making it a cramped space for the children in their car seats. Before Arthur closed the passenger door again he pulled the unused rear seat belt around the cool box and secured it tightly. He didn't want it moving if he had to do an emergency stop and hitting one of the children. When he was happy that the cool box was secure, he smiled at the children and closed the passenger door.

Arthur resumed his place in the driver's seat as his father got into the car in the passenger seat and stood the Thermos flask he'd been holding upright in the foot well. "Hello you two," Uther beamed at his grandchildren through the rear view mirror. "Are you looking forward to our trip?"

"We're going to the zoo Ganpa," Amhar said, her eyes glowing. "We're going to see lots of animals!"

"Oh, I see," Uther smiled affectionately at his granddaughter while his son re-started the car and pulled out of the drive onto the main road. "It's a long time since I've been to the zoo," Arthur caught a glimmer of something in his father's tone, a hint of something regretful, but he let it go for now, choosing instead to concentrate on driving while the children prattled to their grandfather. "What animals do you think we'll see?"

Though the zoo wasn't too far outside Winchester, the traffic was busier than Arthur anticipated. It seemed as if the warm, fine weather had given a lot of people thoughts of going out for the day and most of them seemed to be going in the same direction. It seemed that most people had the same idea of spending the day at the zoo with their families.

When the road signs started to display how far away the zoo was, the children's anticipation seemed to rise.

"How long will it take to get there?" Llachue asked his father, attempting to move slightly in his car seat to make himself more comfortable.

"We won't be long now, we're nearly there and you'll be able to stretch your legs a bit." Arthur smiled at his son through the rear view mirror. Though Llachue was quite tall for his age, Arthur mused, watching through the rear view mirror as Llachue tried again to make himself a bit more comfortable, he wasn't quite tall enough yet to sit on a booster seat in the back of the car. The car seat was still big enough for him, Arthur knew, but it couldn't be particularly comfortable as the day was becoming hotter. Though the law said that children needed to be twelve to use a booster seat safely, it was obvious to Arthur that Llachue would reach the legal minimum height for one in the next year or so, he was growing so quickly.

Soon the turn off for the zoo appeared ahead and Arthur indicated that he was turning left. The children became excited again when Arthur turned into the zoo's entrance and stopped to pay the entrance fee to a man in a casual dark green uniform with the zoo's logo on the breast pocket. He stood in a small brick-built kiosk near a barrier blocking the zoo's entrance. When Arthur handed over his money and received a receipt, the barrier lifted, allowing him to drive through.

"I could have paid for this," Uther said, turning to Arthur as he moved the car towards the car park, which was essentially a field on the zoo's periphery. "It could have been my treat."

Arthur forced himself to bite his tongue. Why did his father make everything about money? He pushed the thought away, reminding himself that he couldn't argue with his father now and spoil the children's day before they'd even started. "Don't worry about it, you can buy us all an ice-cream later." He kept his tone light and dragged a smile to his lips.

Arthur eventually found a place to park and stopped the car. He got out of the car with his father and they let the children out. Llachue sighed with relief to be out of his car seat and gave himself a small stretch. Before the children moved too far, Arthur sprayed them with the sunscreen he'd grabbed from the bathroom before they left the house. "Make sure you keep your caps on," he reminded both of them. "It's going to be a hot day, the sun will be strong."

Turning for a moment to lock the car after he'd done everything he could to protect the children from the sun, Arthur turned back to the children and his father. "What do you want to do, stick together for a while or pair up, so we can all see the things we want to see?"

"Well I haven't been here for years," Uther replied, looking around as he spoke. "I'll get my bearings in a while, but why don't we stick together for a bit and then we could pair up, if the children want to see different things. I'll leave the cool box and the flask in the car for now, one of us could come back to the car for them later, when it's time for some lunch, if that's all right?"

Arthur nodded in agreement and then turned his attention to the children. "Right you two," he said seriously. "One of you needs to hold Grandpa's hand and one of you needs to hold my hand while we walk through the car park. You can let go when we're in the zoo properly, but let's not start the day by having any accidents, all right?"

Llachue was standing next to his father now and took his hand obediently. Amhar beamed up at her grandfather as she took his hand. He smiled affectionately down at her and then they all made their way towards the gateway that would lead them to the animal enclosures.

Arthur, Uther and the children spent the morning walking through the zoo grounds. The larger animals were housed in wide open paddocks, secured by tall fences visitors could easily see through, while the smaller animals were in enclosures that matched their natural environments as much as possible. They watched the tigers lounging in the sunshine. The children were delighted by the meerkats, their heads bobbing up and down from behind the small hillocks in their scrubland enclosure. Uther pointed out the way there seemed to be a pecking order in the meerkats group. Some appeared to be on sentry duty, guarding the enclosure from intruders. Others seemed to be foragers, responsible for finding food. The foragers spent most of their time underground, only appearing when they'd found some tasty bugs to eat. Some of the meerkats seemed to be responsible for caring for the youngsters in the group, they steered them around and kept them in order, while the youngsters appeared to be doing everything they could to avoid the watchful eyes of the adults.

The family saw all manner of animals that morning. Amhar was particularly taken by the Asian small-clawed otters, with their delicate features and dark eyes, while Llachue enjoyed the lemurs and the Arabian Oryx with its white coat and long tapered horns.

Moving on, they listened to tamarins calling to each other as they leapt from tree trunk to tree trunk and watched as marmosets gnawed holes in the trees and plants to get at the sap and gum in the bark.

The children wanted to see everything the zoo had to offer, pygmy hippopotamus, rhinosceros, all manner of birds and small animals, giraffes, cheetahs, snow leopards and zebras.

Eventually, as the day was getting hotter, Amhar turned to her father. "Daddy, I'm thirsty."

Arthur looked at his watch and realised just how long they'd been looking around. They'd all been so absorbed in the sights around them, the time had raced by. "How about we go and find a nice place to have a drink and some lunch then?" he replied, getting nods of agreement from Llachue and his father and a relieved expression from Amhar.

They didn't have to walk very far to find a place to eat. The zoo was surrounded by acres of parkland with a large country house at the centre. One of the affluent families of Winchester once owned the house and the surrounding area, but now it formed an integral part of the land around the zoo and had become a visitors attraction in its own right.

"If you give me your car keys," Uther said, when they had found a place to sit down on the wide expanse of grass that wasn't too close to a lot of other people, "I'll go and get the cool box and the flask."

Not keen on the idea of handing over his keys for a reason he couldn't even explain to himself, Arthur shook his head. "Come and sit down with the children. I'll go and get the cool box and the flask, it won't take me long."

Uther frowned, obviously thinking that his son must think he couldn't manage to walk to the car and back after all the walking they'd done that morning. "Arthur, I'm quite capable of walking to the car to get our lunch, I'm not so old and past it that I can't manage to walk a distance without keeling over, not just yet." Though there was a frown on his lips, Uther's eyes shone with a smile he was trying to suppress.

"I didn't say you are," Arthur defended himself, probably more sharply than he intended. He watched as Llachue's eyes widened slightly as the atmosphere became tense. Uther's frown deepened and the smile that had illuminated his eyes slipped away, but he said nothing, while Amhar's eyes switched rapidly between her father and her grandfather as she sensed the tension in the air.

Arthur wondered for a moment why, since his return from Manchester, he'd become so irritable around his father. All the time he'd been away on business over the past year or so, he'd hardly thought of his father, if he was honest. If his mind drifted to his family at all, it was to his wife and children and the rising sense of guilt he felt for failing them so badly. His father hadn't crossed his mind, except to wonder how he would react if he found out just how badly his son had failed in the one thing he'd been trusted to do, taking over the business.

In the last few days, since Guinevere had gone into hospital, his father seemed almost omnipresent. Arthur recognised how Uther had readily stepped in to help with the children, looking after them at short notice on the day Guinevere was rushed into hospital, and then child-minding for them a number of times since without complaint. Whilst Arthur was genuinely grateful for his father's help with the children, acknowledging even to himself what a struggle it would have been without him, it served to remind him of the contrast between Uther now, the loving and attentive grandfather, to the distant and aloof father he once was. It also served to remind him of how, for a while, he'd become exactly like his father as he used to be, pushing his wife and children aside, convinced he was doing it for their benefit, while he pursued material gain. The difference, he told himself, was that his father had achieved the material gain he'd sought. Uther had become a wealthy man by most people's standards, while he, Arthur, now stood on the brink of taking his family down with him to a point they might never recover from and it would happen right under his father's nose. The thought made him feel sick.

"Daddy?"

Amhar's voice pulled Arthur out of his thoughts. He blinked and forced a smile to his lips. "I won't be long and we'll have some nice lunch and something to eat." Turning away, he walked as quickly as he could in the direction of the car park.

It didn't take long for Arthur to get back to the children and his father with the cool box and flask. Within minutes they were all eating sandwiches and snack foods. The children also had small cartons of fruit juice to drink, whilst Arthur and Uther had a cup of tea from the flask. While they ate they chatted about all the things they'd seen that morning and the atmosphere that had briefly tensed when Arthur became irritated with his father, lightened up.

When the children had eaten and drank enough, Arthur told them they could go and have a run around to stretch their legs a bit before they went off to see everything else they wanted to see. "Don't go out of my sight though, will you?" Arthur said firmly. "Stay where Grandpa and I can see you."

The children promised they would stay in sight. It didn't take them long to become involved in a nearby ball game with a small group of other children who were around the same age. The other children's parents smiled and nodded across at Arthur and Uther before exchanging pleasantries about what a beautiful day it was and the distance they'd travelled to the zoo. It turned out the other family weren't local, but they lived close enough to Winchester to travel easily enough.

When the children were settled in their game, Uther offered Arthur another cup of tea from the flask. He accepted and sipped at it while he watched the children play. Amhar looked like she'd already made friends with a girl who looked just a little older than her, whilst Llachue was already wrapped up in the game, the competitive spirit he usually covered with his easy-going nature coming to the fore.

Seeing that the children were quite happy and the other family were also keeping an eye on all of the children, Arthur relaxed a bit. Taking another sip of tea, he turned to his father. "You mentioned coming here years ago?"

Uther's eyes had also been on the children. When Arthur spoke he nodded thoughtfully, but didn't take his eyes off his grandchildren. "I came with your mother years ago, a few years after it had first opened. It wasn't as big then as it is now. It almost looks like a different place."

"Was I with you?" Arthur cast his mind back through the years. He couldn't remember going anywhere with his father when he was a child and his memories of his mother were all too vague. In truth, he told himself, he'd never really felt the loss of his mother because he'd been so young when she died. What he'd felt as he got older, when he was conscious of how remote and distant his father was, was his mother's absence, because he had no real recollection of her being a part of his life at all and his father had done nothing to fill the gap she left.

After appearing to be deep in thought for a moment, Uther shook his head and a hint of a sad smile crossed his lips. If Arthur hadn't been looking at his father he wouldn't have seen the smile. Uther still hadn't taken his eyes off Llachue and Amhar as they ran around and played. "It was before we were married. I told you before," he said, sending Arthur's mind back to the time after Gwydre's death when Guinevere was so ill. Uther had turned up at their flat one evening because he'd found out, when he happened to call into the Rising Sun, that what he thought Guinevere was suffering from, a dose of flu or some other minor illness, was actually a breakdown. He'd ended up telling Arthur about his mother, a subject he'd rarely spoken of before.

"I told you before," Uther repeated, continuing where he left off. "For some time I didn't think your mother felt as I did, but over time I think she realised I was serious about her and she started to feel the same. We started going out as a couple, doing things together outside of the time we spent at college. Back then I couldn't afford to take her out for meals, so we would often just go out for walks in the countryside and find the cheapest pub we could for a drink. On one of our walks she told me how much she loved animals, so I saved for weeks for us to come here. There wasn't the array of animals here then, but she loved it. I can still see her face when she saw the tigers in their enclosure. She stood watching them for ages, completely overwhelmed by their strength and beauty, but she loved all of the animals. Watching the children today, their excitement and fascination with everything, reminded me so much of your mother. She would have adored them, Arthur. She would have loved spending time with them. She would have made such a wonderful grandmother. I know you don't remember, but she was a wonderful mother to you. She adored you from the moment you were born and it never changed, not for a moment, not even when her feelings for me began to change when I pushed her away and focused on the business, if anything I think she loved you even more because I wasn't there, either for her or you." The regret Uther felt over his past behaviour reflected in his eyes.

Arthur had no idea what to say to that. He struggled to relate to the idea of the man who could hardly afford to take his girlfriend to the zoo with the man who sat beside him. He couldn't connect the man he'd spent his childhood with, remote, aloof and detached, with a person who would care enough to save for weeks to go to the zoo, for no other reason than it would give someone he cared about pleasure. It seemed to Arthur, sitting with his father while they both watched Llachue and Amhar play, that other people had somehow seen the best of his father, the loving, attentive, thoughtful side of him that he seemed to be before his life was consumed by work for years. His mother must have seen it, at least in the beginning, he told himself. Llachue and Amhar saw it now. All the children saw of their grandfather was his thoughtfulness towards them, his willingness to care for them and spend every minute he could with them. They knew nothing of his bad side, his ruthlessness, his selfishness, his total disregard for the needs of other people, his obsessive focus on the business, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. The only person who had consistently seen that was him, Arthur told himself, suddenly feeling resentful.

Arthur was saved from having to think of something to say when Llachue and Amhar sat back down on the grass. They both gave the children they'd been playing with a friendly wave and said goodbye. "Thank you for letting us play," Llachue called out to the other children and Arthur felt a rush of pride in his thoughtful, polite son.

Before too long Arthur decided it was time to go and see some more of the zoo before they made a move for home. By now the afternoon was drawing on and he sensed the traffic going home would be almost as bad as it was to get there and he was conscious of wanting some time to go and see Guinevere before the end of the day. Though he wouldn't say it out loud, Arthur knew he'd missed Guinevere all day. He was acutely aware of how much she would have enjoyed watching the children's faces when they saw the animals, she would have enjoyed watching them play so nicely with the group of other children too, but it was her presence he missed more than anything. All through the week, with Guinevere in hospital, Arthur had felt her absence almost like a physical pain. He promised himself he would never make the mistake of spending weeks at a time away from her again as he'd been doing for months. He would find a way to be with her more, he told himself. Whatever he had to do, he would do it, because he needed to be with her.

When Arthur asked Llachue what he wanted to do next, he said he wanted to see the lizards and snakes and then, if they had time, he wanted to go on the train around the park. A look of horror swept over Amhar's face. "You said we don't have to do things we don't want to do," she cried, looking at her father, her top lip wobbling ominously and her eyes filling with tears. "I don't like the snakes."

For a moment Arthur didn't know what to do. If he didn't make up his mind Amhar would work herself into a state, which would inevitably lead to a tantrum. Both of the children had been so good all day, he told himself, it would be a shame to spoil it now.

"I could go with Llachue," Uther suggested, helpfully. "I've got my bearings now and there are signs to everything and plenty of people to ask for help. We could meet back at the car in what, forty minutes or so, to give us time to get to what we want to see, to have time to have a proper look and then get back to the car?"

Knowing he was probably about as keen on the reptiles as Amhar, if he was honest with himself, Arthur agreed reluctantly, though his doubts lingered. "Are you sure you'll be all right, you won't let Llachue out of your sight, will you?" Though he knew his father would look after Llachue, he didn't know if Uther would get Llachue back from the reptile house safely, bearing in mind he was unfamiliar with the zoo.

Uther shook his head. "We'll be fine, won't we?" He smiled at Llachue and ruffled his hair affectionately.

When Llachue beamed and took his grandfather's hand, Arthur didn't have the heart to go back on what he'd promised earlier, that the day was for fun and the children could do what they wanted, within reason. "We'll see you in 40 minutes then?" Arthur asked his father, giving Llachue a smile.

Llachue's beam almost split his face in two and Uther's was almost as wide. They walked away with assurances that they would be back at the car in forty minutes, without fail.

With Uther and Llachue walking into the distance, Arthur knelt to speak to Amhar. "What are we going to then, do you still want to see the penguins?" As he spoke he wiped away a tear from Amhar's cheek.

Amhar's face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining. Arthur stood, knowing a tantrum had been averted. "Come on then, you," he sighed affectionately. When he was standing he hugged her against his side for a second and then took her hand.

Arthur knew he would remember the next forty minutes for the rest of his life. He watched Amhar avidly as she studied the penguins in their enclosure, giggling with delight at their antics on dry land, copying their comical waddling gait, but it was when they went through the underground cave beneath the enclosure that Amhar's face showed how magical she thought the penguins were. Illuminated by the shadows in the water above her and the sunlight as it streamed down from the outside world, Amhar's expression was one of pure joy. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, without tearing her gaze away from the birds. "They are flying, look!" She pointed with a hand that was shaking with excitement as the penguins swam above her, their movement far more graceful in the water than on the land.

Arthur smiled at the rapt look on Amhar's face, too wrapped up in her innocent pleasure to point out that penguins couldn't fly. He could see what she meant. The penguins ungainly waddle had disappeared, making way for elegant diving and swift, graceful sweeping movements through the water. It did look like they were flying, Arthur thought, still captivated by the shining of Amhar's eyes and the way she could barely contain her exhilaration.

It was only when they left the penguin enclosure, when it was time for them to meet up with Uther and Llachue, that Amhar seemed to tire. When she began to lean on him heavily, Arthur bent down and told her to climb on his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck tightly and Arthur carried her while she chatted sleepily about the penguins.

It was as Arthur and Amhar were about to walk past the zoo's gift shop that they spotted Uther and Llachue. They were standing outside the shop, looking around. Putting Amhar down on her feet, Arthur guided her through the busy throng of people rushing back and forth. "Did you get lost?" Arthur asked as he approached his father, telling himself he'd been right to worry earlier.

Uther smiled in greeting and hugged Amhar when she went towards him. "No, we worked out you would have to go this way back to the car, so we waited for you. I wondered if the children might like something to remember the day."

Arthur had to bite his tongue. For a moment he itched to say he could buy his children something if they wanted a gift, but he kept quiet, telling himself his father was trying to be kind. It was reasonable to offer the children something to remember the day by, he told himself, pushing away his irritation.

Arthur, Uther and the children made their way into the gift shop, finding it noticeably quieter than outside. Just a few people were milling around, looking at what was available. They found all manner of gifts, postcards of animals, paintings in frames, mugs with either the zoo's logo or a picture of an animal and soft toys of every description.

Gathering the children together, Arthur looked down at them. "You can go and pick what you want," he said, "but don't pick anything too big. Just remember, whatever you choose needs to fit into the car. I don't think your Mum would be very pleased if I tell her later that we had to leave one of you behind to fit a huge toy into the car." He winked at the children and they giggled.

Llachue and Amhar got together and seemed to be talking for a moment about what they wanted. After a while, Amhar looked up into the eyes of her father and grandfather. "Can we buy Mummy something instead?"

Taken by surprise, Arthur and Uther looked at each other in disbelief. When Uther didn't voice any disapproval of the idea, Arthur nodded. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" he asked the children, touched by their thoughtfulness. "If you want something, I'm sure we could still buy Mummy something too."

Both of the children shook their heads. "We don't need any toys," Llachue said, sounding wiser than his years. "Mum couldn't come with us, so we want to buy her something so she can see what a nice day we've had, and so that she knows we've been thinking about her."

"Go and pick Mummy something nice then," Arthur smiled, his voice coming out strained. He wished Guinevere could see what the children had done and how selfless they were being, because that was all her influence, he was honest enough with himself to admit it.

The children wandered around the shop for several minutes. They looked at a number of the things on offer before putting them back. It was only when Llachue picked up a soft toy in the form of a beautiful snow leopard that Amhar nodded in approval. The toy had shining dark eyes and almost looked real as it lay on its belly, it's front paws stretched out and its tail wrapped around the lower part of its body.

"Mummy will like her present, won't she Ganpa?" Amhar took her grandfather's hand while Arthur paid for the gift and the woman on the check-out put it in a bag with the zoo's logo on the front.

"She'll love it," Uther stood with both of the children as Arthur walked towards them, the bag with the snow leopard inside in his hand. "You're both very thoughtful to think of your Mummy, she'll be very proud of you both."

Gathering the children together, Arthur and Uther guided them out of the shop and through the zoo's grounds back to the car to head for home.


	18. Chapter 18

**Many thanks to those of you who took the time to write reviews for chapter 17. I continue to be very appreciative of your encouragement. I've just enjoyed a bit of a break from my writing, doing other things and living my life a bit, but I'm back now with a renewed sense of purpose. You might still have to bear with me for a while, I can't produce chapters out of thin air, but the end of this is in sight now and I hope it will have been worth the journey with me.**

 **In answer to my question about why I chose to set my story in Winchester, the reason lies within history. During the Tudor period they believed Winchester to be Camelot. In the Middle Ages Winchester was also considered to be the capital of England. Winchester Cathedral is also the site for a number of royal baptisms, burials and marriages, including the marriage of Mary I to Philip of Spain in 1554. With that in mind and with a good dose of artistic licence, I thought I could make use of Winchester's connections whilst attempting a modern story. I hope it works.**

 **Now, with thanks for your patience in waiting for this, I will move on. You have an extra long chapter to reward your patience, so some reviews would be lovely.**

The rest of the weekend seemed to crawl by to Arthur. He tried to keep reminding himself that nothing was certain about Guinevere being allowed to go home at the start of the week, something could still go wrong to keep her in hospital for longer than she hoped, but he couldn't get the thought of her coming home out of his mind completely and spent most of the weekend wishing the time away, feeling as if it was going slower than usual just to torment him.

The hardest part of the weekend for Arthur was not letting something slip to Llachue and Amhar about the possibility of their mother coming out of hospital. They knew in vague terms that she might be home soon, if the doctor agreed she was well enough, but when he went to see Guinevere when the family got back from the zoo, she reminded Arthur not to say too much to the children about her going home just in case it didn't work out, though she remained determined to do anything she could to convince Mr. Louden that she was well enough to leave hospital.

When they got back from the zoo after their day out, Arthur dropped the children off with their grandfather while he went to spend a bit of time with Guinevere. Climbing out of the car on Uther's drive when her father released her from her car seat, Amhar looked up at Arthur. "You won't forget to give Mummy her present, will you?" She frowned at him uncertainly.

Arthur shook his head firmly. "I won't forget and I will make sure Mummy knows you both picked her present. She'll love it."

"You'll give Mum our love, won't you Dad?" Llachue said, stretching himself slightly when he got out of the car. "Don't forget to tell her all about the zoo too, because she missed it."

Arthur nodded and gave both of his children a hug before getting back into the car. "I will give your Mum your love, and I will make sure she knows all about our day, don't you worry."

Arthur watched the children walk with their grandfather to his front door and disappear into the house before he set off to see Guinevere for an hour or so before the end of the day. He had spent the whole day missing her. Even when he was watching the children's animated faces at the zoo, he was conscious of Guinevere's absence. He could picture how much she would have enjoyed watching the children as they took in all the sights around them. He knew she would have loved watching the children play so happily with the family they met at lunchtime and she would have been proud of how politely they'd thanked the other children for letting them join in with their game, but more than anything Guinevere would have loved the pleasure of watching the children having fun and enjoying a simple day out. He told himself he would tell Guinevere every detail of the day. It wasn't the same as her spending the time with the children, he knew that, but at least he could bring it to life in her mind, just to give her something to hold on to before she was home.

As much as Arthur was convinced the time was going by even slower than usual, the new week eventually arrived. Arthur woke early on the Monday morning and practically jumped out of bed. He let the children continue to sleep while he got up, washed and dressed, before calling them to get up for breakfast before they went to school. While the children ate their breakfast Arthur checked his mobile phone for messages from Guinevere. She'd promised to message him when the surgeon had done his rounds. They both knew that it wouldn't be until Mr. Louden had seen Guinevere and was satisfied that she was doing well that he would say whether or not she could go home. Clipping his phone on his belt after he'd checked for messages, Arthur was disappointed to find no news from Guinevere, until he scolded himself for checking too early. Though he had no real knowledge of a surgeon's daily routine, common sense told him that they probably didn't do their rounds at breakfast time. He forced himself to concentrate on getting the children ready for school as usual, telling himself that no news was good news, because surely Guinevere would know by now if something had gone wrong at the last minute, wouldn't she?

Arthur eventually took the children to school. Amhar hugged him tightly and skipped into pre-school happily enough. She told Arthur that she was going to tell her teacher all about the zoo and all the animals they'd seen.

Moments later, when Arthur stood at the school gates with Llachue, the boy looked him up and down, a quizzical expression in his eyes.

"What is it?" Arthur asked after a moment of feeling as if he was being studied by his son. "Is something wrong, have I got something on my face?" He brushed his hand around his lips and chin, thinking that maybe he'd got some food around his mouth, or maybe some toothpaste.

Llachue shook his head, but the quizzical expression lingered in his eyes. "You just look... _different_."

Arthur's brows arched and he smiled. "Good different, or bad different?" He pulled a face and Llachue giggled for a moment before shrugging.

"I don't know, you just look _different_. You look like you're waiting for something nice to happen, like a birthday or Christmas or something. It's not your birthday, is it?"

Arthur grinned, reminding himself that Guinevere often said Llachue didn't miss anything. Was he that obvious? He probably was, he told himself, trying to school his features into something less readable. "No, it's not my birthday," he looked around, taking in the bright sunshine and the rising temperature. "It's definitely not Christmas either."

Llachue chuckled. He was about to say something else when the school bell rang. He hugged Arthur quickly and then turned away to follow a group of his school friends into the building.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Saved by the bell," he muttered to himself and turned to head for home.

On getting back into the house, Arthur started to clear up from breakfast. He checked his phone again, thinking that Guinevere might have sent him a text message when he was taking the children to school and maybe he hadn't heard because of the traffic noise. Giving his phone a glare as if it had offended him in some way, he put it away again. Feeling the need for some distraction, he turned the small radio that sat at the back of the kitchen worktop on. He remembered buying the radio for the kitchen not long after they'd moved into the house. Guinevere hadn't felt the need for it, saying they had a stereo unit in the living room that had a perfectly good radio included, but he'd bought it anyway, saying it might be handy for the traffic reports before they went to work each day. Just as Guinevere suggested, the small radio had gone mostly unused, except for the odd time in the winter when the local radio station issued details of school closures and detailed traffic reports when heavy snow fell, but now Arthur turned it on, deciding that it might give him something else to think about for a while. Secretly he hoped that the local radio station's morning presenter, a man who seemed to think he was a big star with opinions people needed to hear on every subject under the sun, might be holding a phone-in on one of the topical issues of the day. Arthur knew perfectly well he would never phone in, but arguing with the presenter and shouting at the radio for a while would give him something to do to pass the time.

Arthur worked on the breakfast things quickly, washing and drying up and putting everything away. When he'd done that he was tempted to just go to the hospital to see Guinevere as usual, but over the weekend she'd told him there was no point in him going to see her early in the day and then going back to the hospital to pick her up when Mr. Louden discharged her. He wondered what he could do to fill the time and decided on running the hoover around the house and tidying up a bit. He knew Guinevere would worry if she came home to a mess and she'd start trying to do things she wasn't fit for yet. Arthur reminded himself of what Mr. Louden had already said, that Guinevere wouldn't be able to lift anything heavy, not even a kettle, for six weeks, and housework was out of the question, so he knew she'd want to come home to a tidy house.

An hour or so later, with the house reasonably tidy, or at least tidy enough to stop Guinevere fretting too much, Arthur was just putting the hoover away when his mobile phone alerted him to a text message. He snatched the phone off his belt and checked it. His heart leapt when he saw a text message from Guinevere, before sinking again when he read the message. She told him that her stitches had come out in the shower that morning and the nurses were pleased with her scar. He already knew from what Guinevere had told him that the scar from her surgery looked better than it had looked when she'd first seen it and been so upset by how big it was, so he decided it must be good that the nurses were pleased.

Arthur carried on reading, interpreting Guinevere's shortened words and punctuation in the message as he went. She said her walking was easier now the stitches were out. She was still sore, she said, but it wasn't as bad as before and she'd managed to walk to the shower and back that morning without too many problems. Again, Arthur took this information as good news. He remembered how painful Guinevere found walking in the days after her surgery. It had worn her out too and she'd needed to lie down for a while to recover after each attempt, but as the days went by she'd pushed herself to walk a little further, telling Arthur that the sooner she could get around, the sooner she would get home. He remembered worrying about her, convinced she was pushing herself too hard too soon, but she dismissed his concerns, telling him firmly that she just wanted to go home and get her life back.

Arthur read on. Guinevere said the nurses were sure she'd be allowed to go home when Mr. Louden did his rounds. Arthur almost punched the air with excitement, but he continued to read instead. It was only then that he discovered the problem. Guinevere explained that Mr. Louden usually did his rounds at mid-morning if he had patients who were waiting to be discharged, but the nurses had received information to say he'd been called to an emergency surgery and he'd been delayed and there was no news on when he would be able to do his rounds, so she didn't know when she would know any news. Arthur thought of going to the hospital, thinking he could at least keep Guinevere company while she waited, but she had obviously anticipated his thought. She said there was no point in Arthur going to the hospital just to sit around, he'd be better off finding something to do at home and she would message him again when she was ready to be picked up. She ended the text message with an assurance that she would text him later and she placed an x on the bottom of the message to indicate a kiss.

Arthur replied back, saying he wouldn't mind sitting with Guinevere at the hospital, he had nothing else to do and he could keep her company, but Guinevere replied to say she had a hospital full of people to keep her company and there was no point in him driving through the traffic twice in one day if he didn't need to, so she would let him know when she had more news.

Knowing Guinevere was probably right, there wasn't much point in him going to the hospital to sit around just to go later and pick her up, Arthur sat down at the kitchen table. He knew there was no point in getting frustrated. Mr. Louden couldn't help being called to an emergency, but he couldn't help his disappointment. He wanted Guinevere back at home so badly, he could almost taste it. Though he'd spent months away from her, the last few days had shown him how stupid he'd been. His stomach still rolled when he thought of the day Guinevere was rushed into hospital. Arthur knew he would never forget how fragile she looked when he first saw her. The thought that she could easily have died still lingered in his mind. Though he knew she was much better, he still couldn't help thinking about what he would have done if he'd lost her. A common sense voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Guinevere told him he would have had the children to care for, so he would have had to find a way to go on, but he knew his life would have effectively been over. Guinevere had given him meaning and purpose. From the moment she'd walked into his life in their old local pub, she'd made him want to be a better person. Guinevere's love had filled a gap in his life he'd never known existed. She'd cast her own light into the darkest corners of his soul, the places where the absence of his mother and his father's treatment of him as a child still stung him. She hadn't wiped those things away, but she'd given him something to hold on to.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Arthur wondered yet again how he could have let Guinevere down so badly, not just once, but twice. He loved her to the depths of his soul, he knew that, so how could he have hurt her so much again? The truth lingered over him in the form of the thing that had clung to him since he'd fallen in love with her, his unworthiness of the love of such a woman and the thought that one day she would see his unworthiness for what it was and she'd leave him. In his head he knew it was ridiculous. Why would he fear losing Guinevere on the one had and yet continue to hurt her in ways that could bring losing her about on the other? It made no sense, but he told himself he was going to do whatever it took to fix the latest mess he'd made and he was going to change his ways. In future, he told himself, he would face his problems with Guinevere, because the thought of trying to deal with things without her was unbearable.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Arthur wondered how he was going to tell Guinevere about the mess he'd got them in to. He knew that if Guinevere came home he would have to tell her the truth at some point, he'd promised he would and he had no intention of hiding anything from her any more, but he still had no idea what to say. He told himself to give her some time to settle back in at home, a bit of time to relax and be with the children without worrying about anything but getting herself better for a while, but he also knew the children only had a couple of weeks left at school before their long summer break. Making up his mind, he decided he would tell Guinevere everything before the children's six weeks holiday began. He hoped that would give him time to think of what to say. He hoped it would also give him time to come up with a plan for how to get them out of the mess they were in, because he sensed that if he could tell Guinevere he had a plan, it would be better than telling her he had no idea what they were going to do.

Rather than sitting around doing nothing for the rest of the day while he waited for Guinevere to message him again, Arthur spent some time calling the building sites for the developments he was working on. If Guinevere couldn't do much for at least six weeks, he reasoned, she would need someone to take care of her. Whatever happened, Arthur had no intention of letting anyone else look after Guinevere in the weeks ahead, so he would need to be at home with her. He made the decision to appoint his most experienced builders as site managers. They were all experienced enough to manage the day to day work. They had far more practical experience of dealing with problems than him, so he could delegate to them while Guinevere was recovering. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it months before. It would have saved him spending days away from home and hours of making decisions the builders were experienced enough to make on their own. Deep down he knew exactly why he'd tried to manage the workload the various development sites had created on his own. He'd been so confident when he'd succeeded with the first few houses he had built before Llachue was born. Now he asked himself if confidence in his ability to manage had become arrogance when he was offered the private developments. Had his success gone to his head, had he thought that though he needed a site manager to oversee the work on those first few houses, he could move on to bigger and better things on his own? The truth stared him in the face. The fact was that he'd been over-confident and arrogant and Guinevere and the children had ended up paying for his mistake. They would go on paying for it too, if he couldn't sort out the mess they were in. What had he been trying to prove, he asked himself, and who was he trying to prove it to? The face of his father loomed in his mind, as much as he wished he could wipe it away. In the cold light of day, Arthur also knew that he could have put site managers in place before, but as time had gone on and the mess he was in got worse, not having site managers had given him the perfect excuse to avoid Guinevere and keep the truth of the mess he'd made from her. Well, he reasoned, that was something he could change right now

Within a few hours Arthur had spoken to all of the most experienced builders on the developments he was working on, telling them he could be called upon in a big emergency, but there was no way he would be able to deal with any issues that couldn't be dealt with on the phone. He wondered if he imagined the hint of relief in most of the voices of the people he'd spoken to. Would they be glad to work without his interference, he asked himself. Had his attempts to speed up the work on the developments actually slowed it down? If he was honest, he didn't care. All he felt was a weight being lifted off his shoulders. With someone in charge at all of the development sites, someone who knew what they were doing, he was free to spend time at home with Guinevere and the children. That was all that mattered at the moment.

The day went on and Arthur still hadn't heard from Guinevere again. He wondered how she was filling the time. She probably wouldn't sit around waiting for him, he told himself, an affectionate smile crossing his lips. No, Guinevere would find something useful to do. He imagined her finding someone to talk to, or something to do that would be helpful. It was Guinevere's way, he reasoned, she'd been exactly the same from the moment he met her, selfless, thoughtful and kind. Arthur was honest enough to admit, the children's thoughtful ways were entirely down to Guinevere's influence. She'd nurtured the children in her gentle way, instilling in them that it was better to give then receive and that spending a moment with someone, giving them time, was worth more to a lot of people than all the money in the world. He knew that was what had prompted the children to ask if they could buy Guinevere a gift at the zoo, instead of having a gift themselves. It was worth it, he remembered, his mind going back to the evening after their outing, when he took Guinevere her gift. Her eyes had filled with tears when he told her what the children had done, but the pride in her watery gaze was unmistakeable.

"We produced a couple of really amazing children, didn't we?" Guinevere had said, wiping her eyes with a tissue after her emotional reaction.

Arthur had slipped his arms around her and gently pulled her against him, dropping a kiss into her hair. "I don't think I had much to do with how they've turned out," he sighed. "The best of them is all you."

Guinevere pulled out of his arms and frowned at him, telling him with her usual mixture of strength and kindness, the children were a mix of them both, good and bad and he shouldn't be so hard on himself. "You shouldn't put me on a pedestal, Arthur," she warned him seriously. "I don't belong on a pedestal."

Arthur had shaken his head and pulled her back into his arms. "No Mrs Pendragon," he said reverently. "You belong with me and I'm the luckiest man alive." He kissed her, pouring everything he felt for her into the gesture, reminding himself that he would never forget again how lucky he was to have her.

The rest of the day slipped by slowly. Once Arthur had made the calls to ensure the developments he was building would run smoothly without him, he was at a loose end. Late in the afternoon he made himself a cup of tea and sat watching the clock as the time came around when the children's school day would end. He knew his father would be picking them up and taking them back to his house, so he didn't need to worry, but for a moment he turned over the thought of going to get the children from his father a bit earlier than usual, just for something to do. Arthur rejected the idea, telling himself that if he picked the children up early they would want to know why and he couldn't tell them that it was because he was going out of his mind while he waited for their mother to let him know if she was coming home.

Arthur was just about to boil the kettle again for another hot drink he didn't even want, when his phone alerted him to another message. He practically snatched the phone off his belt, almost dropping it on the kitchen floor in the process. He grabbed at it and opened the message, his heart hammering when he realised it was from Guinevere.

'Mr L says YES!' she said simply, typically getting to the point. 'Will you come and pick me up?' In brief terms she said he might want to go and pick up the children from his father's first and she was happy to wait. She also told him to bring her some clothes and told him exactly what she wanted, a light sleeveless summer dress, some clean underwear and her favourite flat shoes.

Turning to the kitchen clock he'd spent the at least the last two hours staring at with increasing boredom and frustration, Arthur decided he had time to go and pick up Guinevere before he picked up the children from his father's house. He quickly messaged Guinevere to tell her he would see her soon and then he clipped his phone back on his belt as he almost ran up the stairs to find the clothes Guinevere wanted. He found the clothes quickly in the walk-in wardrobe in their room and smiled to himself when he thought of how organised Guinevere was. Going back downstairs, he found a bag for Guinevere's clothes in the kitchen, he placed them carefully inside so they wouldn't crease, knowing the telling off Guinevere would give him if she left the hospital looking untidy, and then he went to the front door. Almost before he knew it, he was sat in his car and pulling out of the driveway of his house.

A short time later Arthur was driving through the entrance to the hospital car park. For a moment he thought of how different he felt now compared to how he felt when Lance told him Guinevere had been rushed into hospital. All the way back from Manchester he'd been terrified of what he was going to find when he saw Guinevere. Dozens of questions were racing through his mind, along with a terror that seemed to almost halt him in his tracks, the thought that he might be too late and he might have lost her forever. Now, on this bright, warm late afternoon, excitement was building in the pit of Arthur's stomach. He found himself feeling strangely apprehensive about seeing Guinevere again, now he knew she was going home, but he told himself it was just the excitement coiling around his insides, making him feel like he was going to jump out of his skin at any moment.

Forcing himself to take a breath and calm down, Arthur looked for a place to park quite near the hospital entrance. He knew Guinevere still became tired quickly, so he didn't want her to walk any further than she really needed to. Happy that he was as close to the building as he was going to get, he parked the car and climbed out. Locking the car, he walked quickly into the building and aimed straight for the lift that would lead him to gynaecology and Guinevere.

Arriving in gynaecology, Arthur went straight to Guinevere's room. He slipped inside quietly when he realised Mr. Louden was there too. A nurse, who Arthur quickly realised was Jackie, the nurse Guinevere had built a real bond with in the days since she went in hospital, was placing Guinevere's belongings into the small case he'd taken to the hospital on the day she was rushed in, the case she'd used when Gwydre, Llachue and Amhar were born. The case lay open on the bed while Jackie worked. When she was finished she closed it and went to put it down on the floor. Drawing attention to himself, Arthur took the case from Jackie and held it in a hand while he waited for the surgeon to finish talking to Guinevere.

"Now just remember," the surgeon's attention was focused on Guinevere, though he nodded at Arthur in acknowledgement when the younger man went into the room. "I've given you a prescription for some pain relief, which you will probably need for a while yet. I want you to go and see your own doctor in six weeks or so, just as a follow-up to see how you are getting on, but if you have any problems, anything at all, any unusual pain, or any worries about your recovery, you can call the department here and someone will either speak to you or they will pass on a message to me."

Guinevere nodded and stuck out her hand to the surgeon. "I can't thank you enough Mr. Louden," she spoke through what sounded like a lump in her throat. "If it wasn't for you, I…."

Mr. Louden shook Guinevere's hand, but dismissed her thanks. "I did my job, Mrs Pendragon, nothing more, nothing less, but if you really want to thank me, you can look after yourself properly now." The half smile on his lips shone in his eyes as he spoke. "I did an excellent job on closing your wound and it is healing beautifully, so don't you go overdoing it and making me open you up again to fix the damage, do you hear?" The light in the surgeon's eyes belied his serious tone.

Guinevere smiled and nodded and then, after shaking Arthur's hand, Mr. Louden left the room, reminding Guinevere to take it easy for a few weeks.

When Mr. Louden was gone, Jackie turned to Guinevere, who was standing by the hospital bed, still dressed in her dressing gown. "Right, you're all done," Jackie indicated to the case in Arthur's hand. "Will you need a hand to get dressed?"

Guinevere shook her head. "I think I can manage, thanks." Guinevere hesitated for a moment and then gave Jackie a hug. "Thank you for looking after me, you've been so kind, and will you say goodbye to the other nurses for me?"

Jackie embraced Guinevere for a moment and then let her go. "You've been a model patient, I wish they were all that easy. I will pass on your thanks to everyone. We're all glad you're going home," she went on, smiling between Arthur and Guinevere, "but you will be missed around here. Look after yourself, won't you?"

"I'll make sure she does," Arthur said, eyeing Guinevere affectionately. She rolled her eyes at him, knowing he would probably spend the next few weeks fussing over her.

When Jackie left the room, Guinevere perched on the side of her freshly made hospital bed. Arthur put her packed case down on the floor for a moment and then stepped towards her, kissing her softly on the lips. "Today has felt like a month," he sighed, when they pulled apart slowly. "How are you feeling?"

Guinevere smiled up at Arthur, her eyes shining. "I know, but never mind. I'm all right, I feel really well, apart from still being a bit sore, but Mr. Louden says that should pass in time. He's pleased with my recovery."

"Not half as pleased as me," Arthur said, leaning forward to kiss Guinevere again. When they pulled apart, Arthur picked up the suitcase on the floor. "Are you ready to go home?"

Standing carefully, Guinevere turned and smoothed a hand over the side of the bed, smoothing over the area where she'd just been sitting and then she picked up a plastic bag that Arthur recognised from the visit to the zoo with the children. Guinevere had obviously put the snow leopard the children had given her in the bag to take home. When she was satisfied that she'd left the bed neat and tidy, she turned to Arthur and held her empty hand out. "I'm ready now, take me home."

Grasping Guinevere's free hand in his, Arthur led her to the door of their room. "Are you sure you should be carrying that?" He eyed the plastic bag Guinevere was holding in her other hand.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, it's as light as a feather, and while we're at it, don't you go thinking you're going to be spending the next few weeks fussing over me and treating me like an invalid, will you? I feel fine Arthur, so don't fuss." Though Guinevere's tone was sharp, the light shone in her eyes, telling Arthur she was laughing at him.

Arthur stood still and turned towards Guinevere. He looked her straight in the eyes. Guinevere could see he looked deadly serious and the humour that had danced in her eyes a moment before slipped away. "You've had surgery, you're recovering and if I want to fuss over you I will," he said firmly, before his voice softened. "I keep thinking how lucky I am to be taking you home at all. Guinevere, if I'd lost you this week, I..." Arthur's voice broke and he shook his head, unable to go on as all the emotion from the last few days spilled out.

Shocked by the strength of Arthur's feelings, Guinevere slipped her arms around him for a moment. He slipped his empty arm around her and pulled her as close as he could without hurting her. Guinevere felt him shudder and ran a soothing hand down his back, sensing the tension in his body. "You didn't lose me, I'm still here," she sighed, holding him tighter. She held Arthur until she felt the tension inside him sliding away. When his hold on her loosened, she backed away from him and they turned towards the door to her room, still keeping a firm hold on each other's free hands.

The traffic through town was getting busier as Arthur drove towards his father's house. "You wouldn't be sitting in this if you'd picked the children up first," Guinevere said, looking through the windscreen at the queue of traffic in front of them. "You could have picked the children up, and then by the time you had come out of your father's the traffic would have cleared a bit."

Arthur shrugged and eased the car forward when the line of traffic moved a little, only to stop again a moment later. Normally he'd have been frustrated to sit in busy traffic, but with Guinevere by his side he found he didn't care. "It's fine, it'll clear in a minute," he gifted Guinevere with a smile. When, a few moments later, the traffic began to move more freely, the smile became a grin. Guinevere giggled softly at Arthur's light mood and shook her head.

Soon they pulled up outside Arthur's father's house and got out of the car. They left Guinevere's bags in the car and walked towards the house with an arm around each other. Arthur knew he'd spent months keeping Guinevere at a distance, but all of a sudden he couldn't stand being more than arms length away from her. He pulled her close and inhaled her familiar scent as he rang the front doorbell.

Uther answered the door and was about to greet Guinevere enthusiastically when Arthur hushed him. "I want to surprise Llachue and Amhar," he explained quickly, when both Uther and Guinevere fixed him with similar confused expressions.

Following his father down the hallway, Arthur stood with Guinevere by the door to the living room, out of sight of the children. They could hear the television on, some children's programme of some sort. "Will you be all right to stand there for a minute?" Arthur asked, knowing how quickly Guinevere became tired. She'd taken a moment to recover from walking from her room at the hospital to his car. She'd seemed all right once she'd had a rest, but he didn't want her to overdo it.

"I'll be fine, go on," Guinevere almost pushed him towards the living room. He fixed her with a mock frown, which turned quickly to a smile and then he walked into the living room as nonchalantly as he could.

Arthur found the children sitting on the floor, in front of the television. A children's programme he remembered when he was a child, so it must have been repeated dozens of times over, played out in front of them on the large screen. Uther sat on the sofa, doing his best to smother a wide smile by holding hand over his mouth, but if the children had turned to look at him closely, even they would have seen that the look in his eyes gave him away.

"Hello you two," Arthur said, doing his best to sound normal. "Have you had a good day at school?"

The children muttered a response, but didn't drag their eyes from the television. Arthur knew they must have been absorbed, they hadn't even pointed out he was a bit late to pick them up.

"I've got a surprise for you both," Arthur said, trying again. "Do you want to see?"

Amhar turned from the television and looked at her father. "What is it?" Her brows arched and she looked around the room. A moment later, as the programme they were watching finished, Llachue turned to look at Arthur. Just as his sister had done, the boy looked around the room for whatever Arthur's surprise might be, before turning his attention back to his father's face. Both of the children fell silent.

Arthur stepped closer into the living room when he heard familiar light footsteps behind him. Then a voice broke the heavy silence in the room.

"It's me," Guinevere said, moving into the room to Arthur's side. Arthur heard the way her voice shook with emotion. He turned towards her to make sure she was all right, but her full attention was on the children's faces. She gazed at them like she hadn't seen them in months and tears fell from her eyes, though her face was filled with the tenderest of smiles.

"MUMMY!" The children called out in unison, even Llachue addressing his mother in the way Amhar did, a way he usually dismissed as 'like a baby.'

The next moment there was chaos as both children ran towards their mother and rushed into her arms. "Oh, darling, not so tight!" Guinevere laughed and cried at the same time when Llachue squeezed her as tightly as he could.

"Come on, let Mummy sit down, she's still a bit sore," Arthur said after a moment, when he could see Guinevere was starting to tire. The children released Guinevere, but didn't move too far away when Arthur guided her to the sofa and she sat down next to her father in law, reaching towards him to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. The children settled on the floor at her feet, barely taking their eyes off their mother's face.

"How are you, my dear?" Uther said, beaming at Guinevere.

Guinevere turned to her father in law and nodded. "I'm all right, just a little sore still and I still get tired quickly, but the surgeon said that's normal at this stage. He wants me to see Gaius in six weeks, just to check I'm still doing well, but I feel really well, all things considered."

"Good," Uther reached over and gave Guinevere's hand a gentle squeeze. "Your father was worried about you, and so was I," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm so glad to see you looking so well, you look even better than you did at the hospital."

Guinevere smiled at her father in law and squeezed his hand in return. "It was kind of you to bring Dad to see me, thank you."

Uther shook his head. "Not at all, it was my pleasure, and if there is anything I can do while you are recovering, anything at all, you mustn't hesitate to ask." His eyes drifted between Guinevere and Arthur as he spoke.

Arthur's head nodded once to acknowledge his father had spoken. He itched to point out that he had everything under control, but he kept his mouth shut, choosing to focus instead on Guinevere being out of hospital and the children's faces when they'd seen her. He would remember their excitement for a long time, he told himself, feeling glad to have surprised them.

The family stayed with Uther long enough for the adults to have a cup of tea and then they all went out to the car. Uther kissed Guinevere and gave her a gentle hug on the doorstep, before waving them off.

Before too long, Arthur was unlocking his front door. He stood back to let Guinevere and the children in first, wallowing in the excitement on Guinevere's face. As she moved into the house she seemed to be taking in every detail. Arthur felt a pang of guilt as he looked at her face, knowing how much she loved the house. He forced the thought away and guided her towards the living room.

"I can't get over how big this place looks," Guinevere sat down on the sofa as she spoke. The children sat down beside her as close as they could get. She slipped her arms around both of them and hugged them. She'd barely taken her eyes off them since she saw them at Uther's house. It was almost like she couldn't get enough of them.

"Well, it hasn't stretched in the wash." Arthur winked at the children and they both laughed at his joke.

Guinevere shook her head. "I suppose it must be because I've spent most of the last few days in that room at the hospital. The house seems really big and it's so tidy." She gifted Arthur with an approving look and he smiled to see she'd noticed his small efforts to make the place look respectable for her, though he knew it wouldn't pass muster when she was well enough to do a closer inspection.

The family had a quiet evening at home. They sat together watching one of the children's DVD's before dinner and then Arthur went out to get a takeaway for them all instead of cooking. When they'd eaten and the metal trays the food had been in had been washed and put outside in the recycling bin, Arthur took the children upstairs to get ready for bed.

When Arthur had tucked Amhar into bed he kissed her goodnight and then sat down on the side of the bed. "So, are you glad Mummy is home?" He knew he didn't need to ask really. Both of the children had been wreathed in smiles all evening. They'd spoken animatedly to their mother throughout dinner, telling her what they'd been doing at school and all the small details Arthur had missed out about their trip to the zoo.

Amhar nodded excitedly and then her face straightened and her eyes filled with worry. "Mummy won't have to go into the hospickle again, will she? I didn't like it when Mummy was poorly."

Arthur shook his head firmly. "Mummy is much better, I promise," he reassured. "I didn't like it when Mummy was poorly either," he admitted," but I promise you, she's much better now and before too long it'll be like it was before."

To Arthur's surprise, Amhar frowned. "Then will you go away again, like you did before?"

The guilt that Arthur still carried for spending so much time away from his family licked his insides like a red hot flame. The resentment on his daughter's face shredded any hope he might have had that she'd forgotten he'd been away so much. He swallowed hard and pulled her into his arms, disturbing the bedding he'd just tucked her into.

Arthur had to clear his throat of a tight ball of emotion before he could speak. While he gathered himself he held onto Amhar, inhaling the scent of her blonde curls. "I won't be going away again Amhar," he said decisively, "and even if I do, I will make sure I'm back to tuck you in at night, I promise."

"Every night?" Amhar questioned, pulling out of her father's arms to look into his eyes. "You mean it?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. "I promise you, if I have to go away again I will make sure I'm back to tuck you into bed every night."

Amhar threw herself back into Arthur's arms, hugging him tightly as if he'd promised her the moon on a stick. When she let him go he kissed her softly, tucked her back in and said goodnight, leaving her night lights on to shine on her as she slept.

Arthur said goodnight to Llachue and then made his way back to the living room. He smiled to find Guinevere watching the television and sat down beside her on the sofa. He slipped an arm around her and sighed with contentment when she nestled into his arms, turning on the sofa so she could put her feet up.

"Did the children settle all right?" Guinevere asked after a moment of quiet. "I feel bad about not coming with you to tuck them in."

"You don't have to feel bad about anything," Arthur sighed, pulling Guinevere closer into his arms. "You don't need to do everything at once either, you can let me take the strain for a while. You've been doing it all on your own for months and that stops right now, I promise. I'm just sorry it took you becoming ill to knock some sense into me."

Arthur spoke with such determination, Guinevere eased out his arms and looked him in the eyes. When she saw he meant every word, she kissed him, stroking his rough cheek tenderly. "Let's go to bed," she said softly, her voice just above a whisper.

Arthur's brows arched and he held back a mischievous grin. He got to his feet and pulled Guinevere up into his arms."Are you trying to seduce me, because if you are, I should probably tell you that I might just let you."

Guinevere edged closer to Arthur's body and slipped her arms around his neck. "I'll seduce you in six weeks, if you behave yourself," she played along with his game, whispering in his ear and then dropping a line of kisses from his earlobe to his lips.

"Done," Arthur conceded, grinning broadly between kisses.

Over the next few days, Arthur and Guinevere fell into a routine. Arthur continued to get up every morning to supervise the children's breakfast and help them get ready for school. The children went back upstairs to kiss Guinevere goodbye before Arthur took them to school, but she stayed in bed until Arthur got back. She would then get up and they would have a slightly late breakfast together.

On some of the days after Guinevere came home they had visitors. Uther called in with Tom late one morning and then Sefa appeared with Gwaine, who took Arthur aside and told him that they were giving some serious consideration to adopting, but they still hadn't quite made up their minds. Leon sent his and Mithian's good wishes via Gwaine. Gwaine explained that Leon couldn't get away from the restaurant to visit Guinevere himself, but Guinevere wondered if the truth was that Mithin was trying to be thoughtful. The birth of her second child was getting closer and Guinevere wondered if Mithian felt uncomfortable about being so obviously pregnant while she and Arthur had so recently experienced the loss of a pregnancy. She tucked the thought away, resolved on phoning Mithian when she had time. She told herself that she could cope with seeing Mithian, after all, they'd lost the ectopic pregnancy so early, it wasn't really a baby at all, was it? She held on to the thought, telling herself that if she thought it enough, it might feel true.

The days slipped by and Guinevere slowly got stronger. Arthur wouldn't let her do anything around the house. He chided her if she so much as plumped a sofa cushion, but she tried not to get frustrated with him. He was only doing it because he cared, she reminded herself, after going downstairs one morning before he got back from taking the children to school. When he got back he found her in the kitchen washing up the children's breakfast things.

"You shouldn't be doing any housework, you heard what Mr. Louden said," Arthur frowned, shaking his head in dismay. "What are you trying to do, put yourself back in the hospital?"

"If you'd come back just a few minutes later," Guinevere lifted the bowl of washing up water slightly to tip it down the sink as she spoke, earning a glare from Arthur, who looked like he was almost having to physically restrain himself from interfering with what she was doing, "you wouldn't have caught me doing anything at all, would you?"

"Pardon me for worrying about you," Arthur glowered, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table.

Seeing the upset expression on Arthur's face, Guinevere moved and sat across from him at the table. She reached over after a moment and took his hands in hers. "I know you worry about me," she admitted, feeling his anxiety even from the distance of the table between them. "I know you worry about me and I love you for it, but you can't protect me from everything, can you?"

There's no harm in trying, Arthur thought to himself, but he kept quiet.

A few days later, Arthur had come back from taking the children to school and he and Guinevere had enjoyed a leisurely breakfast together. He'd managed to persuade Guinevere to sit in the living and relax while he did a bit of tidying up around the house. She'd given in surprisingly easily, Arthur thought, knowing how difficult she was finding it to do so little. It wasn't in her nature, he mused, watching her as she settled on the sofa in the living room with a cup of tea and a book. As far back as he'd known Guinevere she'd always been busy, looking after her Dad, working when she became a carer and then running the house like clockwork as well as working from the time they were married.

The only times Arthur had ever known Guinevere do nothing was when she was ill, most notably in the months after Gwydre died, but even then it had taken her an age to get to that point. Her initial coping mechanism had been to bury herself in her work and it had almost proved disastrous for her. Now, after a couple of instances where he'd found her doing things around the house she shouldn't have been doing, at least in his eyes, she'd seemed to give in and let him take care of her. Part of Arthur worried that maybe Guinevere didn't feel quite as well as she was prepared to admit, so she was giving in to the inevitable, but after a few days of watching over her closely for any sign that she wasn't well, he realised what she was doing. She was humouring him, letting him think he'd got his way, but in fact she was merely biding her time, waiting for him to let his guard down before she threw herself back into her usual routine. She was being clever, Arthur thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he stood up from sitting with her in the living room to go and get on with things around the house, but in the back of his mind he wondered how mad she would go if he locked the vacuum cleaner away in the shed and hid the key from her, or did something to the washing machine that would stop her using it for a while. He abandoned the idea quickly, telling himself he didn't have a death wish.

Arthur was just about to go upstairs to make the beds when the front doorbell rang. "Don't get up," he called to Guinevere in the living room, "I'll get it."

Wondering who could be visiting at that time of day, Arthur expected to find a postman on the doorstep, or maybe his father. He pulled the front door open and went to speak, but at the sight of the man on the doorstep he shut his mouth abruptly.

"Hello Arthur," Lance said, awkwardly shuffling his feet on the doorstep. "I know you probably don't want to see me and I haven't come to make life difficult or cause trouble, but can I have a word with Gwen, just for a minute?" In spite of Lance's obvious agitation, he spoke evenly.

Still stunned by Lance's unexpected appearance, Arthur opened the front door as if on auto-pilot. He stood back from the door to let Lance into the house and then he turned and Lance followed him to the living room. All the time Arthur's mind was racing, but he couldn't clarify his thoughts enough to think of something to say.

When Arthur walked into the living room, Guinevere was still engrossed in her book. Arthur took a moment to absorb the way she sat, her bare feet up on the sofa, her eyes scanning the page in front of her.

"Who was at the door?" Guinevere said after a moment, obviously sensing she was being watched. "Was it the post?" She didn't look up from her book.

Arthur swallowed hard and found his voice. "No, you've got a visitor." He wondered why his voice sounded so high pitched and tight. Lance had looked nervous on the doorstep, so shouldn't he be the one who sounded anxious now? Instead, Lance hadn't said a word, but Arthur turned slightly as he spoke, taking in the way the other man gazed at Guinevere with something like longing in his eyes, despite the fact that she still had her back to him. Arthur wanted to do something possessive, like sitting next to Guinevere on the sofa and taking her bare feet in his lap, but he couldn't make himself move. He gritted his teeth and waited for whatever happened next.

"Well, don't be mysterious," Guinevere said brightly, a moment later, breaking the silence of the room when she closed her book, began to turn on the sofa and put her feet down on the carpeted floor. "Who was at the….?" Her voice halted abruptly when she saw Lance. He was standing just to one side of Arthur, his eyes glued to her. Though she willed herself not to react, she felt the heat rush to her face as she flushed at the intensity of his gaze. The flush slipped away when she looked at Arthur. She knew him well enough to know, every instinct he had wanted to do something to remind Lance that she was spoken for, but he neither spoke nor moved. He was standing to one side of Lance, turned slightly towards him, hovering in the space near the living room door. Guinevere could tell by the hard line of Arthur's jaw that he was gritting his teeth while he waited for her to make the next move.

Making up her mind, Guinevere found her voice. She forced a smile to her lips. "Lance, would you like a drink, a cup of tea or something?"

When Lance nodded and said he'd love a cup of tea, Guinevere turned to Arthur. "Would you put the kettle on love, please?" She looked into his eyes as she asked him the question, trying to tell him without saying a word that she knew what she was doing, if he would just trust her.

Though Arthur really didn't want to leave Guinevere alone, he nodded. He heard the endearment she used and saw the look in her eyes. She was asking him to trust her. Reminding himself that Guinevere hadn't given up on him despite the times he'd let her down, Arthur knew the time had come for him to prove his faith in her. Though every fibre of his being knew he didn't deserve her, she was still there, he reasoned, and she was asking this one thing of him. He looked into the dark pools of Guinevere's steady gaze on him and turned to leave the room. Any noise that might have come from the living room was drowned out by the kettle when Arthur turned it on and it began to boil.

"How is everyone at work?" Guinevere turned her attention to Lance when Arthur left the room. "Is Alice still as chatty with you?" As she spoke she indicated to an easy chair near the sofa and Lance moved to sit down, though Guinevere noted the way he perched on the edge of the seat rather than relaxing into it. He looked like he was preparing to get back to his feet at any moment, she thought, sensing his tension.

"Everyone misses you," Lance replied softly. "Alice sends her best wishes, everyone does. They'll all be glad to know you are looking so well." He pulled a half-hearted smile to his lips.

"Thanks to you," Guinevere said, fully aware of Lance's actions on the day she was taken so ill. "My surgeon explained," she went on, swallowing a ball of emotion in the back of her throat when she thought back to that day. "If you hadn't acted so quickly, I probably wouldn't be here now. I really can't thank you enough for what you did, Lance."

Lance heaved a sigh at Guinevere's heartfelt words and shook his head. "I only did what anyone would have done, it was nothing."

"It was hardly nothing," Guinevere insisted. "If it hadn't been for you, my husband would be a widower and my children would be without a mother."

"I was glad to be in a position to help," Lance said, his voice low. His voice told Guinevere he didn't want to discuss the subject any more and she dropped it.

"So, are they keeping you busy at work?" Guinevere asked, after a moment of awkward silence. She'd been able to talk to Lance from the moment she met him, she thought, so why was it suddenly so difficult to find the words now? Her mind went back to all the moments she'd shared with Lance at work and when they'd gone for walks at the end of the working day. Though she'd done nothing to be ashamed of, she had felt drawn to him. With Arthur away so much and her frustration with him in her mind, Lance had filled a gap in her life. He'd made her feel valued and appreciated as a person, not just as a wife and mother, and, if she was honest with herself, he'd made her feel attractive in a way Arthur hadn't for months, because he was either away or he was tired and irritable when he was at home.

The terrible day when Arthur saw her in the garden with Lance and the children rushed into Guinevere's mind again. Arthur's accusations had stung her to the core. They'd ended up arguing, saying bitter words to each other out of jealousy and resentment and then Arthur had left again. The next time she saw Arthur she was in the hospital, just coming round from her surgery.

Though she'd told Arthur Lance had just been her friend, Guinevere looked back now and wondered if that was strictly true. She would never have had an affair with him, not a real affair, she told herself, knowing that much was true. She knew that as angry as she'd been with Arthur and as much as she'd felt he'd abandoned her and the children, she could never bring herself to hurt him like that, because, though he didn't always make it easy, she loved him with all her heart and always would, but did that mean she was entirely immune to feeling attracted to Lance? The truthful answer was no, and Guinevere knew it. Sitting with Lance now, Guinevere knew she had felt a physical attraction to him, but that was exactly what it was, a physical attraction to a handsome man, a man who was there and had paid her some attention, but it paled into insignificance to the love she felt for Arthur.

"I've handed in my notice, I'm going back to London." Lance said the words quickly and then fell silent again.

Guinevere's eyes widened in surprise. "I can't believe it, you're such a natural. The clients love you Lance and you're a good carer, so why do you want to leave, are they overworking you, because if they are, you could just speak to Hunith and…?"

"It's not that," Lance cut across Guinevere abruptly and then he apologised with his eyes. She dismissed him with a shake of her head and he went on. "I've just realised I don't belong here in Winchester, I just don't fit in, so I'm going. Just after you were taken ill I applied for a job as a chef in a hotel in London and I got it. It's not one of the big hotels, the truth is that I'll be starting again to a degree, proving myself, but once my name gets around, I should be in a position to start climbing the ladder again."

Guinevere shook her head in disbelief. "I really can't believe it. I thought you had started to settle here, I thought you liked it."

"I liked you," Lance said honestly, looking straight into Guinevere's eyes.

"Look, Lance," Guinevere's eyes drifted to the open living room door, conscious that Arthur wasn't far away. If he walked in now, she thought, he would never accept that nothing was going on between her and Lance and she would lose him forever, and whatever happened, she knew she couldn't let that happen because she loved him too much.

Lance shook his head, realising he'd made Guinevere feel uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he sighed, shaking his head again, as if the action would clear his thoughts. "I don't mean to embarrass you in your own home, and I certainly didn't come here to cause trouble for you, I'm just trying to explain that I think things got complicated between us, that's all. I think, if you are honest, you were missing Arthur, and I've come to realise over the last few days, I'm not as over Elena as a thought. The truth is Gwen, I latched on to you because I miss my wife. For a while there you brought something back to me that I thought I'd lost when Elena died. You made me feel alive again, as if there was a point to everything, a purpose to every day, but then Arthur saw us together and then you were ill and it took that to make me see things had gone too far. When Arthur met me at the hospital on the day you collapsed, I told him I could have loved you, but I knew you would never let me because you love him and your kids, but the last few days have shown me that what I thought I felt for you was a dream, a fantasy, something to fill the gap Elena has left in my life. I've realised I need to work through my feelings for her, but to do that I need to be where my memories of her are and that's London Gwen, it's not here, so I'm going."

Guinevere's mind was spinning. She could see in Lance's eyes that he was being honest. She could see it all clearly now, she'd been drawn to Lance because she missed Arthur and Lance had been attracted to her because he was still grieving for his wife. Perhaps the losses they both carried, the loss of her mother when she was a child and then losing Gwydre, and Lance's loss of his wife, had made them feel as if they had things in common, she thought, understanding how that might happen and feeling suddenly relieved that Lance had come to clear the air between them.

Clearing her thoughts, Guinevere spoke. "When will you go?"

"I've given Hunith a month's notice," Lance explained, now looking more relaxed than he seemed when he walked into the room in Arthur's wake. "My new employer in London has agreed to keep my position open for me while I work my notice. I'll go after that. It means I'll have to work in the hotel while I'm settling in in London, but that won't be too bad."

"Do you have somewhere to stay in London?" she asked, feeling concerned for him. As much as she didn't feel romantically drawn to Lance, she did care for him and didn't like the idea of him being alone and not having a roof over his head.

A hint of a smile crossed Lance's lips. "Out of the blue Elena's mother phoned the other day. I told her I was going back to London and she's asked me to stay with her and Elena's father for a while. It's not permanent of course, and I'm not sure I would want it to be, but it'll be somewhere with people I know, people who knew Elena and loved her, so it will be good. After that, when I've settled, I'll look for a place of my own."

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Guinevere asked, still feeling concerned.

Lance nodded and his smile widened slightly. "To tell you the truth Gwen, it's probably the first sensible thing I've done since Elena died. I've realised I can't keep running away from my feelings, sooner or later they have to be faced and I'd rather do that now, before I make an even bigger mess of my life, or worse, someone else's."

Lance got to his feet. "Look, that's all I came to say really. Tell Arthur, I'm sorry if I caused trouble between you. I never meant to do that, but tell him from me, he's a lucky man to have you and he should hang on to you. I told him as much at the hospital, but he probably wouldn't want to hear it again from me, so tell him, and then will you do one thing for me, Gwen?"

Guinevere nodded, touched by Lance's words. "Just name it, what do you need?" Sensing that their conversation was coming to an end, she got to her feet.

"Be happy for me Gwen, just be happy. Live your life with Arthur and those kids of yours and be happy, that's all I want for you."

Blinking back tears now, Guinevere nodded. "I will if you will, okay?"

Lance smiled sadly. "I'll try, that's the best I can do just now, but I will try. Tell Arthur not to worry about the tea, I'll get going now." He turned to leave the room.

"I'll see you out," Guinevere went to follow him as he walked towards the living room door.

Lance turned and shook his head. "Don't do that, I don't like goodbyes, in any case, you should probably be resting. I was surprised when I went to the hospital earlier and they said you'd been discharged, but I'm glad to see you looking so much better, you had me worried there for a moment."

Guinevere smiled and nodded. "I think I had _me_ worried there for a moment, but I'm doing okay and whatever you say, that is thanks to you, Lance, I'll always be grateful for what you did."

"Think nothing of it, it was my pleasure," Lance said, and then he walked out of the room. A moment later Guinevere heard the front door open and close and he was gone.

Within a moment of Lance leaving, Arthur went back to the living room. Guinevere had sat back down on the sofa and was just wiping her eyes when Arthur walked in. He hadn't made the tea while he'd been out of the room. He'd sat in the kitchen with the door closed and the radio on. He couldn't work out whether he trusted Guinevere and Lance on their own that much, or whether he just couldn't bring himself to overhear anything they might say to each other while they were alone, but he told himself it was the former.

"You've been crying," Arthur said, when he realised Guinevere was wiping her eyes. Had Lance upset her, he asked himself, preparing to get angry.

Guinevere shook her head. "Lance is gone, he's going back to London," she said, by way of explanation.

"And you're upset about that?" Arthur's heart sank.

Guinevere shook her head more decisively. "No, I'm glad for him, truly, but what he said made me realise how lucky we are, Arthur. We haven't had it easy, I know that, but we are still together and we've got the children. Lance is alone and he's trying to come to terms with losing his wife and it just makes me realise we're so lucky, that's all."

Arthur took in what Guinevere said. Not for the first time over the last few days, he acknowledged to himself that if it wasn't for Lance he'd now be alone. Turning to Guinevere, he knew what he needed to do. "How long has Lance been gone?" he asked urgently.

"He went just now," Guinevere replied, "Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I'll be back in a minute!" Arthur called out, dashing to the front door and pulling it open. On the doorstep, Arthur looked down the drive. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped off the doorstep. Lance hadn't parked on the drive near the house, he'd parked on the road. As Arthur looked out Lance was just about to get into his car.

Standing on the drive, Arthur called out. "LANCE!"

Lance carried on getting into his car, but he turned when he heard his name. Arthur walked down the drive towards the other man.

Lance frowned at the sight of Arthur walking towards him. "Look, Arthur, I don't want any trouble," he said, wondering why Arthur wanted to speak to him now. "All I wanted was to say goodbye to Gwen before I leave for London, that's all. I'm going back to London soon and I'll be out of your hair, so just go back inside and get on with your life with Gwen, all right?"

Arthur shook his head and found his voice. "Guinevere told me you were leaving, so if I don't do this now, I might never get another chance."

"Do what?" Lance asked, his eyes widening slightly. Arthur could tell, he was waiting for a smack in the mouth or something.

Without another word, Arthur held his hand out, sideways on, his thumb upwards.

Lance looked at Arthur's hand and then he looked at his face. There was a look of grim determination in his eyes. Responding automatically, Lance stuck his hand out through the open window on the driver's side of his car. He felt Arthur's firm grip as they shook hands.

"What was that for?" Lance said, when the two men let go of each other's hands.

Arthur shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know really, but what I do know is that without you I'd have lost Guinevere and my life would be over. Saying thanks for what you did is inadequate, but you should know that I'm grateful, more grateful than I can say, so thanks."

"You really love her, don't you?" Lance asked, his eyes softening in understanding of the expression on Arthur's face. The determination was still there, but it was tempered by a look of overwhelming gratitude and love. Lance knew he'd felt like that once. He held on to the thought that maybe, in time, when he'd come to terms with losing Elena, he might feel like that again, when the memories of her last few years weren't so painful and the memory of what they'd shared together overwhelmed his sense of loss.

Without another thought and without any sense of embarrassment, Arthur nodded. "I don't deserve her, Lance. The truth is, I've never deserved her and lately I've treated her like dirt, but she's my life. I love her in a way I can't even put into words. She's everything to me, without her there's nothing."

Lance nodded thoughtfully. "Well go back in there and tell her, Arthur. She deserves that." With one last nod to Arthur, Lance started his car and drove away.

Days passed quickly after Lance visited to say goodbye to Guinevere. Soon the start of the children's long summer break from school was just a couple of days away. Arthur's promise to himself, that he would tell Guinevere everything before the children started their summer holidays, loomed large in his mind. He was still fixed on telling her everything. Lance's visit had only clarified his determination to do the right thing and tell Guinevere the truth, but as the moment approached, Arthur still couldn't work out what to do about the problems he faced. He could try talking to the bank, he told himself, but he knew that would mean admitting there was a problem to people who would judge him and he knew he couldn't do that. If he did, it would lead to questions over his ability to manage Pendragon Homes effectively and that would lead to his father finding out the mess he was in. It would also mean everything his father had worked for would be at risk and it would be his fault. The thought of failing his father so spectacularly made Arthur feel nauseous, but, he told himself, it was either come clean and fail his father, or keep things to himself and fail Guinevere. He couldn't bring himself to do either, but he knew that if it came down to it, he would choose Guinevere over his father any day, so he resolved to tell her everything, whatever it cost him.

On the day before the children broke up for their holidays, Arthur took them to school. He'd left Guinevere in bed, telling her firmly not to get up before he was back in the house, but he had a feeling she would probably ignore him. She seemed to be almost back to her usual self. She was still not supposed to be lifting anything, but she didn't seem to get quite so tired if she was standing for a while, so Arthur took that as a positive sign of her strength returning and knew it was time to tell her the truth.

Letting himself back into the house, Arthur soon found Guinevere, just as he thought he would. She was fully dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, sipping what appeared to be a mug of tea.

"I told you to stay in bed until I got back," Arthur said, shaking his head at Guinevere's wilful independence. She'd done as she was told for a while, waiting for him to get back into the house before getting up in the morning and letting him do things around the house, but he sensed she was pandering to him, doing as she was told just to keep the peace until she could get back to her usual routine, but as her strength grew she made no secret of wanting to get back to normal.

"I just wanted a drink," Guinevere said, holding her mug up to him, "so I thought I might as well get up at the same time."

"So, what?" Arthur said, his concern for Guinevere making him sound frustrated. "You lifted the kettle as well, when you know you're not supposed to be lifting anything yet?" He took a calming breath. "Guinevere, honestly, you heard what the surgeon said, if you don't look after yourself..."

Guinevere could see Arthur's concern for her in his eyes and sighed. "There was only enough water for one mug in the kettle," she explained, doing her best to placate him. "If it had been heavy I wouldn't have lifted it, but it was fine and I haven't done any harm. I'm fine, Arthur, you don't need to worry about me so much, you'll drive yourself mad. I feel fine, I'm nearly back to normal."

"I can't help worrying about you," Arthur said, knowing she did have a point. She was much better. While it was true she shouldn't be lifting anything heavy, she seemed to be growing in strength every day and he knew she was itching to start doing things again. The problem, he knew, was him. He couldn't forget how ill Guinevere had been and how he could have so easily lost her.

"Look," Guinevere said gently, still attempting to placate Arthur. She knew he was worrying because he cared, but his constant fussing over her was becoming frustrating as she started to feel more like herself. She knew there had to be some middle ground they could find until she was really back on her feet. "How about this, if you try not to worry and fuss over me, I will promise you I won't push my luck by doing anything really stupid, like climbing a ladder to clean the upstairs windows..."

"Tell me you haven't," Arthur demanded, going visibly pale.

Guinevere rolled her eyes at him in mock exasparation. "Oh, for goodness sake Arthur, of course I haven't!"

"Yes, well," Arthur huffed, though his tone was warm with affection. "Just you make sure you don't, my heart couldn't take it."

Arthur put the kettle on to make himself a hot drink and offered Guinevere a fresh one. Moments later he sat with her at the kitchen table, fresh mugs of tea in front of them both. He knew the time had come to tell her everything.

Arthur and Guinevere sipped at their tea in silence while Arthur thought of what to say. In spite of the tea his throat had gone dry. He couldn't think of anything he could say to soften the blow that was coming, he had nothing to say to make it easier for her. The only thing he could do was tell her the truth. He opened his mouth to begin, but the words wouldn't come and he closed it again. He looked across the table at Guinevere and she smiled at him, blissfully unaware that he was about to turn their lives upside down.

Getting up from the table, Arthur turned to the kitchen window and looked across the front garden and the drive. He wondered what it would be like to live in a smaller place again, or at least one that wasn't as nice as the house. He thought of the back garden, how they'd turned it from a functional place the previous owner of the house had done nothing with, to somewhere they all liked to sit out, especially in the summer, and the children loved to spend time playing in. Wherever they ended up, he told himself, the children would have to have a garden of some description, even if it was just a small patch of grass.

Arthur suddenly sensed Guinevere's eyes on his back. He felt the tension in the room, knowing that she knew something was wrong. He knew the time had come. Turning back to the table, he sat back down opposite her.

The smile Guinevere had on her face just moments before had slipped away. She finished her mug of tea, swallowed and then she looked into Arthur's eyes. "Are you ready to talk to me now?" she asked.

She knew him far too well, Arthur thought. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.


	19. Chapter 19

**Before I do anything else I have to apologise for taking so long to write the next chapter of this. I've been living a bit, doing other things, having some fun going to the cinema and then seeing a live concert. I had a great time and I was about to come back down to earth and get going with this again when the back problem I have from time to time flared up again. I've been in agony and needed pain relief from the doctor again for a while. It's not perfect even now, but it is a lot better and at least I can sit for a while to write again, so I am going to push on with this a bit. I appreciate your patience.**

 **I left Arthur at a very crucial point in the previous chapter, so I won't prevaricate any longer, I'll let him get on with it.**

"We're going to lose the house," Arthur blurted out before he could change his mind about saying anything at all to Guinevere about the mess he'd got them into. There was no point in dragging it out, he told himself. It was better to get it over with and tell her the truth, he'd hidden things from her for too long. Guinevere deserved to hear the truth now, even if it cost him everything. It was better to rip the plaster off now and get all the pain over with, he told himself, though fear still writhed in his guts.

For one split second Guinevere's eyes widened. Then, to Arthur's disbelief, she laughed. "Very funny," she shook her head, her eyes shining with amusement. "You nearly had me for a moment there."

Arthur couldn't believe it. He'd pulled together all the guts he possessed to tell Guinevere everything and she thought he was joking! He watched her sitting opposite him at the table, chuckling softly to herself. She looked so happy, he told himself, taking in Guinevere's laughing eyes. How could he have failed her quite so spectacularly and how on earth was he going to put any of it right? He knew the private developments would be completed at some stage, and the local authorities who owed him money might find some spare cash in their budgets to pay him for the work he'd done for them one day, but by then the debt he owed the bank would be huge, Guinevere's trust in him would be broken and she would leave him and take the children away.

Looking down at the table to avoid the laughter dancing in Guinevere's amber gaze, Arthur sighed and shook his head. "I'm not joking," he said, his mouth going dry as he spoke. "But I really wish I was. We're going to lose the house and I've got no idea what I can do to stop it happening."

Gathering his courage, Arthur forced himself to look up at Guinevere's face. He watched the laughter die in her eyes as if someone had turned a light out inside her and his heart cracked into a thousand tiny pieces. This was it, he told himself. This was the moment when Guinevere would give up on him and he would lose her. "I'm so sorry," he heard himself say, knowing he meant every word. "I love you." He heard the plea in his tone and knew he should have felt ashamed by having to resort to begging, but he knew he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant Guinevere wouldn't walk away from him.

Guinevere stared across the table at Arthur, trying to take in what he was saying, but it was as if he was talking in a different language. She heard him clearly enough, but she couldn't process his words. She stared at his fear-filled eyes and his sallow skin and she ached to comfort him, but she couldn't think straight. How could they lose the house? When Arthur took on the private developments work he'd been full of optimism for the chances it would create for them, especially the doors it would open for the children, being able to send them to private schools and the chance of giving them the best of everything. Guinevere knew she didn't care about all that and she'd always thought Arthur felt the same, but he'd seemed so keen, she just couldn't bring herself to deny him what he wanted. Now he was telling her they were going to lose the house? It made no sense.

Arthur sat in silence at the other end of the table, waiting for Guinevere to speak. When she didn't, when she carried on staring at him with a look of stunned disbelief in her eyes, the fear he felt increased. "Guinevere, I..." His voice shook as he spoke and he scrabbled around in his mind for something to say, anything to make the silence between them go away. He couldn't think of anything and shut his mouth. His heart pounded when Guinevere suddenly heaved a sigh and opened her mouth. He felt strangely grateful to her for finding her voice when he couldn't, but he was terrified of the thought of what she might say to him.

"H-How…?" Guinevere's voice faltered as she spoke. She swallowed hard and gathered herself. She saw the emotions flying across Arthur's features at the sound of her voice, his face a mask of fear, though he also seemed relieved that she'd ended the silence between them. The urge to reach over the kitchen table and comfort him increased sharply, but she knew she couldn't do that yet, not until she understood what was happening. Gathering her thoughts again, she found her voice. "I don't understand, how can we lose the house?"

Shame coursed through Arthur and he shook his head. He couldn't look at the disbelief on Guinevere's face any more and went back to studying the table top in front of him. "Because I can't afford to pay the mortgage," he admitted, hating himself for failing her so badly. As much as he didn't want to go on, he knew he had to tell her everything now. He owed her that much. "I haven't been able to pay the mortgage for a while, so I think the bank will repossess the house to pay off the debt."

Guinevere could hardly believe what she was hearing. "But I thought we were all right for money," she said, still trying to take in what Arthur was attempting to tell her. "I thought we were comfortable, the money from those first few houses you built…..?"

"It ran out on paying towards the mortgage for this place." Arthur explained, desperate to try to explain to Guinevere how they'd got into such a mess when even he couldn't explain it to himself. "Those houses were cheap and cheerful, so what we got back once all the expenses of the work were covered was all right for a while, but it wasn't a massive amount. The mortgage on this place just swallowed it up, or most of it. The rest of it is running out fast just on normal living expenses, it won't cover the mortgage repayments and I'm just not earning enough to make up the shortfall."

"I don't understand," Guinevere turned over what Arthur was saying in her mind. Her thoughts were spinning all over the place, so much so that she struggled with an urge to fire a dozen questions at once at him. Taking a breath, she pinned down one thought and went on. "How can you not be earning enough? All the work you've done for the local authorities, the private developments…?"

Arthur's heart sank further. This was the moment where Guinevere would see how stupid and reckless he'd been, how he'd gone ahead without thinking through all of the consequences. "When I did the work for the local authorities I thought they would pay up," he admitted, his mind going back over the last year as much to explain his actions to himself as to Guinevere. "I didn't anticipate the cuts they would make and how tight their budgets would be. All over the country they've cut so many services, Guinevere, they just haven't got the money to pay for work they commissioned, including the properties I've built."

"But it's your money," Guinevere said simply. "They can't just not pay you for work you did in good faith, can they?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, they can't, and I am trying to get the money out of them, but there's so much red tape and bureaucracy to get through, it takes forever."

"What about the money from the private developments?" Guinevere asked, attempting to clutch at something positive in the darkness that seemed to be surrounding them both. "Surely that's worth…?" She stopped talking abruptly when Arthur shook his head.

"We won't see much from that until the work is complete," Arthur replied, his gaze still resolutely on the table in front of him. "I thought the private development work would see us through while we were waiting for the local authorities to pay for their work, but there's been setback after setback on the work. The first few properties I built went up quickly and I thought the private developments would be the same, but it's been one disaster after another and now I don't know when they'll be finished, or even if…" He let the thought hang in the air and raised his eyes from from the table again.

Guinevere's dark eyes widened while she took in the seriousness of their situation. Then, as if she was attempting to gather her thoughts, she nodded slowly, though Arthur knew she still couldn't take in what he was saying to her. He waited for her, knowing she would ask him a question as soon as she could get her thoughts together. It was no surprise to him when Guinevere nodded again, chewed her lip anxiously and then, releasing her lip from her mouth, she spoke again. "How much do we owe the bank, how bad is it?"

The question that Arthur had known all along would come was spoken. As much as he knew it was inevitable, he'd been dreading it. He knew he had to be honest. Guinevere would know if he lied to her and it would make it worse, but everything in him recoiled from having to admit how bad things were. "In monetary terms it's not as bad as the mess some people get into." He knew he was playing for time, but he also knew he was trying to play down the seriousness of the problem and he knew Guinevere would know it too.

"How much, Arthur?" Guinevere repeated, a steely edge coming into her voice at last.

Arthur heaved a sigh. Lowering his head again, he stared resolutely at the table top in front of him, tracing a finger along the grain of the wood, he said the words he'd kept locked inside for months. "Well, I haven't been able to pay the mortgage in full for most of the past year." He stopped talking abruptly when Guinevere gasped audibly. He forced himself to look at her for a moment. When he had assured himself that she wasn't about to collapse or anything like that, he went on, his eyes back on the table because he just couldn't look at her while he said what he knew he had to say. "I was paying off what I could for a while, but for the last year it's been next to nothing, so my guess is that it is something in the region of at least £30,000 and that doesn't include interest."

"Oh my God, Arthur!" Guinevere exclaimed sharply.

Arthur looked up quickly from the table top. Guinevere sat opposite him, her cheeks in each hand as she stared at him with horror in her eyes. "It's really not so bad," he tried to placate her again, knowing perfectly well it was pointless. She knew the truth now and she would hate him for failing her and the children so badly. "I will find a way to sort it out. I swear to you, I will find a way to make it all right."

"How?" Guinevere asked incredulously. "You've just said we are going to lose the house and you've got no idea what to do to stop it, so how can you possibly make it all right?"

Guinevere didn't sound angry, Arthur noted, not quite knowing what that meant. Was she so furious with him that she couldn't show it, or was she just too stunned? He had no idea. He also knew he had no idea how he could put any of it right and he admitted as much. "I'll think of something," he said, knowing Guinevere wouldn't be convinced.

Dismissing Arthur's words, Guinevere shook her head. "This is why you've been so distant, isn't it? All this time, months and months where you've been pushing me further and further away from you, this is what it was all about, isn't it?"

Guinevere's voice sounded so calm all of a sudden, as if Arthur had answered a question that had been worrying her for months. The shame he felt for his terrible behaviour towards her almost stifled him. He nodded, unable to say a word for the lump that had risen in the back of his throat. Guinevere's calmness felt worse than if she'd yelled and screamed at him. For months he'd imagined himself telling her the truth. He'd dreamed about it at night. On the rare nights he'd been home over the last months his dreams would wake him at night. Unable to bear the guilt and shame he carried, he would get out of bed, leaving Guinevere to sleep alone and then he would either stand looking out through their bedroom window, or he would go downstairs while his mind tortured him with the images of what would happen when he told Guinevere the truth. In his head he knew what would happen. He would tell her the truth and she would leave him. He pictured her calling him names, or refusing to talk to him at all while she packed his things. Then she would half carry, half drag his suitcase down the stairs and she would open the front door and dump his case on the drive and she would turn around and tell him to get out. In his dreams he would beg and plead, but she wouldn't accept anything he said. In the end she would kick him out. Every night he woke with a start when he heard the sound of the front door slamming in his face in an echo of his nightmares.

Every night, whether he was away or at home, Arthur woke in the night, the images from his dreams haunting him. Every night he was at home would end the same. Guinevere would eventually realise he wasn't sleeping beside her and she would go looking for him. He'd come to dread the sound of her bare feet pattering along the tiled floor of the kitchen or shuffling along the carpet in the living room. Every night she asked him what was wrong, what he was doing out of bed, but her gentleness made it all so much harder to bear. Without even knowing it, Guinevere's gentle kindness, the worry for him in her voice, destroyed him bit by agonising bit, because he knew he just couldn't tell her the truth, because if he did he would make his dreams a reality. In the end being away from home was easier, because when he woke in the night in a bed and breakfast or a hotel, Guinevere wouldn't be there to go looking for him and he would just have the guilt and shame of his failure in his mind, not the terror of saying something that would make his nightmares come true when Guinevere finally gave up on him and left him alone.

"Why couldn't you tell me?" Guinevere broke the silence between them at last.

For the second time in the space of a few minutes, a sense of inevitability settled over Arthur. Ever since they'd picked themselves up from losing Gwydre they'd promised to share everything. It hadn't always come naturally, they'd had moments when it was hard, like when Guinevere found out she was carrying the baby who would turn out to be Llachue and she was trying to figure out whether or not she was strong enough to have another baby after the loss of Gwydre. She'd told him in the end, told him she was pregnant and how frightened she was of losing another baby, she just wasn't sure if she could go through another pregnancy. Since then she'd hidden nothing from him, they'd been open books to each other, keeping nothing back, until he saw her with Lance and assumed she was having an affair while he was away. In her frustration with his refusal to accept nothing was going on between her and Lance, Guinevere held back from telling him she was pregnant and then it had gone horribly wrong when she was rushed into hospital with an ectopic pregnancy. Meanwhile, Arthur was in a mess he just couldn't find a way out of and he was too terrified of losing Guinevere to tell her the truth.

"Well, it's not the easiest thing to slip into a conversation, is it?" Arthur's tone was laden with sarcasm. "I couldn't just go 'Oh, by the way, the house is going to be repossessed,' could I?"

"Don't be sarcastic," Guinevere frowned across the table. "It doesn't suit you." She shook her head at him and he felt thoroughly chastised. He said nothing, knowing that was the least he deserved. "So, I'll say it again," she went on, her tone even and steady. "Why couldn't you tell me the truth, why couldn't you talk to me about this? I know it would have been hard, but surely it would have been easier than pushing me and the children away and then trying to run away from the truth?"

"I did not..." Arthur opened his mouth to deny running away, but he knew he was fooling himself. He'd been running away from his problems for months. He shut his mouth abruptly.

"Am I so horrible to live with that you would rather run away from me than tell me the truth?" Guinevere filled the silence again, her voice filled with pain. "We're married, Arthur. We're supposed to be a partnership, but you pushed me away from you for months. You wouldn't talk to me, you could barely bring yourself to look at me, you wouldn't touch me and I was afraid for you, because I knew the way you were behaving wasn't really you, but you never once said a word to me. You just carried on pushing me and worse, our children, away from you, just because you think we might lose a house, really?" Guinevere's disbelief crept back into her voice.

" _Just_ a house?" Arthur almost sneered. "You make it sound so simple."

Guinevere nodded resolutely. "It is simple, can't you see that? I was shocked at first and the thought of that much debt terrifies me, but really Arthur, this place is just a house, just bricks and mortar. If we have to sell it and go back to a smaller place, does it really matter that much?"

"I thought you loved this house?" Arthur countered. He'd been sat for the last few minutes listening to Guinevere with increasing disbelief. He could barely believe his ears. He'd been convinced Guinevere would shout and scream. He was sure she would cry and hurl abuse at him while she threw him out. She'd done none of those things. She'd seemed shocked at first, frightened by the thought of the debt they were in and dismayed that he'd kept the truth from her for so long, but now she was sitting there talking about them losing their home as if it was nothing? He could hardly believe it.

"I love you more," Guinevere said, looking steadily across the table at Arthur as if she meant every word.

Arthur listened to Guinevere's words and his mind went back through the years to when Guinevere was almost due to give birth to Llachue. Guinevere had become anxious about using the room they'd used as a nursery for Gwydre in their old flat. When she admitted her fear Arthur had offered her a solution. He was working with a client who had a home to sell and he wanted it handled quickly because he was moving to Australia to be with his girlfriend. Instead of handing the sale of the property over to one of the other members of staff at Pendragon Homes, Arthur had decided to deal with it himself. As soon as he saw the place he knew it would be perfect for him and Guinevere, especially with a child on the way, and, he'd thought to himself, maybe there would be other children in the future.

When Arthur had suggested moving Guinevere hadn't been convinced. She was sure Arthur loved the flat he'd bought before their marriage and that moving was unnecessary. "I love you more," Arthur had said, knowing that if he could do anything to give Guinevere peace of mind in those first few months of the new baby's life, a time when they would both be on edge and fearful because of what happened to Gwydre, he would do it in a moment, whatever it took. The flat was just a flat, he reasoned. Guinevere mattered more than anything else and if he could do something to make her happy, he would do it.

Hearing the words he'd once used echoed back at him so firmly stunned Arthur to the core. He wanted to say something tender and meaningful in response, but he couldn't make his mouth work. He wanted to get up and take Guinevere in his arms and hold her, but his legs had turned to jelly and he couldn't move. Suddenly the kitchen around them seemed to go out of focus, but he could see Guinevere more clearly than he'd seen her for months. He sat and stared at her, rooted to the spot, while his heart pounded and his head was filled with the knowledge of how much he loved her.

After a long, heavy silence, Guinevere found her voice. "What, is me telling you I love you really such a shock?"

There was a hurt edge in Guinevere's voice Arthur couldn't miss. He blinked and the room came back into focus. "Of course it isn't," he sighed, his voice filled with emotion. "I just….."

"What?" Guinevere asked gently. "What is it, tell me?"

Arthur swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady himself. "I thought you'd leave me when I told you the truth. All this time, for months and months, I've been trying to find a way out of the mess I've got us into without you knowing about it, because I thought you would leave me and I….I can't live with you."

His last words shuddered out of Arthur as if they had caused him physical pain. He wanted to hide away and stop looking at Guinevere's face while embarrassment coursed through him in torrents, but he couldn't move. He stared at Guinevere, transfixed, while a thousand emotions flew across her beautiful face. Instead of looking at him with disgust for getting them into such a mess, she was sitting there looking at him like he'd given her the stars and was offering her the moon for an encore. A moment later, to Arthur's surprise, Guinevere's chair scraped along the tiled kitchen floor as she stood. Never taking her eyes off him, she closed the distance between them until she stood next to him. As if on auto-pilot, still gazing at Guinevere, he pushed his own chair away from the table and went to stand, wondering what she was doing, but she shook her head at him almost imperceptibly. Without thinking about it, he moved so that he sat on a slight angle from the table, waiting for whatever happened next. The next moment Arthur could hardly believe it when Guinevere moved closer towards him and lowered herself into his lap. She sat across his legs, her own legs too short now for her toes to reach the floor, put her arms around him just below his chest and she leaned into him, her cheek resting against the racing of his heart.

Arthur felt his heart speeding up at Guinevere's closeness. When she'd settled against him he wrapped his arms around her slight frame and lowered his face into her dark curls to inhale her comforting scent. "God, Guinevere, I don't deserve you," he almost whispered, his arms tightening around her as he spoke.

"Well I'm afraid you're stuck with me, so you'd better get used to it," Guinevere said decisively, though there was an edge of humour in her voice.

Wanting her to know he was serious, he eased her out of his arms slightly so he could see her face. She looked up at him expectantly. "I mean it," he said solemnly, taking hold of one of her hands and holding it against his racing heart. "I don't deserve you, I know I've never deserved you. You could have had anyone, Guinevere. Any man with any sense at all would have been proud to have you by his side, so what the hell are you doing with me, it's not even as if this is the first time I've messed things up for us and hurt you, is it?" Arthur's mind went back through the years to the months after they lost Gwydre, when he thought Guinevere had pushed him away from her, so, fearing losing her, he left and applied for a divorce.

"I chose to be with you because I love you," Guinevere said, as if it was obvious. She gifted Arthur with a watery smile. "I didn't want anyone else," her smile slipped away. "I've never wanted anyone else Arthur, just you."

Arthur swallowed hard and shook his head, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, but Guinevere was looking up at him with such resolution, she took his breath away. "What's so special about me?" he asked, till clasping Guinevere's hand as it rested over his heart. "I mean, I'm just…" he broke off, unable to think of how to phrase how he felt. "I'm just me," he went on, after a long moment of silence. "I've hurt you, I've let you down, God Guinevere, I left you when you needed me most all those years ago, but you're still here and I don't know what the hell I did to deserve you."

"You came back," Guinevere said, looking into Arthur's eyes. When he looked confused, she gave him a soft smile and went on. "I don't mean that if you treat me badly I'll sit and take it like a good little wife," she explained, a hint of a smile lingering in her eyes. "I've had times when I could have cheerfully strangled you, especially over the last year or so, but maybe that's what loving someone is supposed to be like. People think love, romantic love, is all hearts and flowers and soppy poems, but it's not, Arthur. Sometimes loving someone is hard, sometimes it takes all your energy and every bit of strength and willpower you've got. When you love someone you give them the power to hurt you, and you have hurt me Arthur, more than once, but you've also made me happy, happier than I would have been with anyone else and certainly happier than I would have been alone. We've built a life together, had three beautiful children together. I know it hasn't always been easy, no one's life is, but we're still here, still together. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does," Arthur nodded. "But I still don't deserve you. I mean, look at you, you're bloody perfect and I'm still just me."

Before Arthur could say anything more, Guinevere moved. She got up quickly, turned so that she faced him and then she sat back down on his lap, her legs straddling his. Taking his face in her hands, she looked deeply into his sapphire eyes. "Have I ever given you the impression that I'm unhappy with _just you_?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, of course you haven't. It's me, it's all me, I know it is. I've never felt worthy of you. Right from the moment I first saw you I thought you'd never look twice at me. The night we met I was sure I was going to do something stupid and blow it before we'd even begun. When we got married I thought we would be all right. A marriage is forever, or at least it's meant to be and I knew we both took it seriously, but I was still convinced I would mess it up and you'd leave me in the end, because that's what I knew, it's what I've always known. People leave me Guinevere, my mother, my father, why should you be any different?"

Guinevere blinked at Arthur's revelation. He'd opened himself up to her in the last few moments more than he had for years, maybe more than he ever had. His doubts in himself were heartbreaking, but something inside her told her that the way Arthur had opened up to her was a good thing. She held on to the thought. "Your mother died and I know your childhood was difficult, but your father is there now," she spoke softly, but with determination. "As for me," she went on, still holding Arthur's face in her hands. "I'm not going to die, not for years and years, and if you think I would ever walk out on you, no matter how stupid or thoughtless or selfish you can be, you've got another thing coming, Pendragon. You say you can't live without me, but what makes you think it's so different for me? What makes you think I've done so well without you through all the time you've been away over these last months?"

Guinevere's grim determination struck at something deep inside Arthur. He latched on to it, held it in his heart. Still, he wasn't convinced, not yet. "You've managed, you can manage perfectly well without me," he said, his voice quivering as he spoke.

Guinevere nodded and Arthur's heart sank, until she edged closer to him until she was right in his face. She was so close he could almost taste her. "Yes, I _can_ manage. I cooked and cleaned, took the children to school and went to work while you were away, but I didn't live, not without you. I managed, I functioned, but I didn't live again until I opened my eyes in that hospital bed and saw you there waiting for me to wake up. I _can_ manage without you Arthur, but it doesn't mean I want to. I don't _ever_ want to have to manage without you, do you hear me?"

Feeling humility he didn't think he was capable of, Arthur marvelled at the strength of the woman in front of him. From the moment he'd fallen in love with her he'd known Guinevere was stronger than him. He had also firmly believed that most of the love, the very deepest love, was on his side because Guinevere didn't need him in the way he needed her. In just a few words she'd wiped everything he thought he knew away, the doubts and fears and inadequacies he had never voiced before. She'd filled a space inside him he'd lived with for years without ever really knowing it was there.

Knowing he wouldn't have the words to express how he felt, Arthur leaned towards Guinevere. She knew instinctively what he was going to do and met him halfway, taking her hands away from his face and sliding her arms around his neck. Arthur slid his arms around Guinevere's body and pulled her closer until she seemed to almost mould herself against him. Then, never taking his eyes off the aching tenderness in her amber gaze, he brushed her lips with his. It was the lightest touch at first, something gentle and experimental, as if he was learning her all over again and wasn't sure if he was getting it right. It changed swiftly when Guinevere began to tease the short hairs at the nape of his neck and then her hands went into his hair, tugging on it as if she wanted more from him. Heat licked his insides and he deepened the kiss, determined to give Guinevere anything she asked of him. He caressed her mouth with his own, tasted her with lips and tongue until she moaned low in the back of her throat. A thrill of pleasure shot through Arthur and goosebumps arose on his skin when Guinevere broke the kiss just long enough for her lips to drift from his lips to his face and then to the line of his jaw and to his neck, where she kissed and nibbled her way to where the collar of his shirt lay open, revealing the tips of his clavicles to her questing mouth. Along the way she grazed his Adam's apple with her teeth, making him tremble with desire and tighten his hold around her body. Surrendering completely to her, he tilted his head back to give her more access and she made full use of it, teasing his skin until her name burst from his lips in torrents of ecstasy that felt almost like pain. Breaking the kiss at last, Guinevere threw herself into his arms and he clung to her, gasping for breath.

When their breathing slowed and returned to it's usual rhythm, Arthur heaved a sigh. He still held Guinevere against him, couldn't bring himself to let go of her. He stroked the waves of her hair as if to convince himself she was really there. "I still don't know what the hell I'm going to do," he broke the silence between them.

Guinevere eased out of Arthur's arms, but she made no move to get up off his lap. " _We_ will sort it out," she said defiantly, looking Arthur firmly in the eyes. "If you'd spoken to me before we could have talked about it and made some changes already. We'll have to look at everything we spend, what we need and what we don't. We'll have to start economising like other people have to."

"I won't have you and the children going without things and suffering because of my stupid mistake," Arthur shook his head bitterly as he spoke. "I planned on being able to give you and the children things with all the money I was going to earn. I never stopped to think about what might happen if any of it went wrong, it was so stupid."

"It isn't just your mistake though, is it?" A line of worry appeared on Guinevere's brow as she frowned. "I encouraged you to go into the private developments knowing I didn't want you to do it, but you wanted it so badly, I didn't have the heart to deny you, so maybe some of it is my fault."

"You didn't want….?" Arthur gaped in shock.

Guinevere shook her head. "You were so wrapped up in all the things you wanted to do, sending the children to private schools, things you planned to buy me, but I never cared about any of that." She suddenly couldn't look at Arthur's face. She clasped his hands in hers and studied them intently, his long fingers with neatly filed nails and strong, masculine hands, while she spoke. "All I've ever wanted is you and the children, but you were so excited about all your plans for us, I couldn't bring myself to stop you. Soon you were away so often and the children missed you so much, but it was bearable at first because you were trying to get home as much as you could. Then you started pushing us away, me and the children. I was hurt and angry with you, but it was too late by then. I should have said something," Guinevere's voice broke and she shuddered as she began to cry. "I should have stopped you and maybe we wouldn't be in this mess now."

Arthur took Guinevere back into his arms. He cradled her against him, one arm around her body, the other hand in her hair, stroking her to soothe her tears. "You are not to blame for any of this," he spoke into her hair. "You warned me when we took on this place about the mortgage, but I was sure we were all right. I'd put money by from the time we got married, but we also had a regular income from Pendragon Homes. Even when I took over from my father I kept my hand in, doing showings with clients every so often. I thought it was good for the business, it made me aware of what was going on and what needed to be done, but it never occurred to me that it also added to my income because I was earning commission from sales. Then we had the money from the sale of those first properties I built and we were fine, more than fine. My income more than covered the mortgage and the bills and your income brought us all the extras, the days out with the children, the fun things. We would have been all right if I hadn't got greedy when I was offered more work by the local authorities, but the real nail in the coffin was those bloody private developments, but I couldn't see it at the time. All of a sudden I was barely spending any time at Pendragon Homes, let alone earning any commission. I was spending more time on the road and on building sites than I was spending with you and the children, but it was bringing in less and less money and I was too much of a coward to tell you, so don't you dare blame yourself for any of this. If anyone is to blame it's me, but now you and the children will end up suffering for my arrogance. I'm so sorry, Guinevere."

Arthur held Guinevere in his arms for what seemed like an age, whispering endearments and apologies again and again until she stopped crying and eased out of his arms. "You'll have to speak to your father." She took hold of one of Arthur's hands again as she spoke and caressed his fingers.

A rush of panic ran through Arthur and he shook his head vehemently. "I can't, I can't tell him about any of this, he'd never let it rest. He'd enjoy telling me how much I've failed and he doesn't need to, I already know."

"Your father isn't like that now," Guinevere frowned deeply. "You know he's not like that any more, you have to talk to him. He's been worried about you for months every bit as much I have have, Arthur. He's your father, he's family, he has a right to know what's going on."

"I can't," Arthur persisted, knowing it was hopeless.

"You have to, Arthur," Guinevere insisted. "Your father might be able to give us some advice on what to do next, you have to talk to him."

"You don't understand," Arthur said almost desperately. "If I tell my father it won't be long before it gets around the rest of the industry. If that happens Pendragon Homes will be finished. Think about it, who would trust an estate agent who can't even keep a roof over his own family's head? We would lose business, it would destroy the estate agency and the construction company, but more than that Guinevere, everything my father worked for would go up in smoke and it would be my fault. I can't tell him, I just can't."

Guinevere listened to Arthur and ached for him. She knew him well enough to know, it wasn't other businesses finding out the mess they were in that bothered him. It was the thought of his father finding out and blaming him. Still, she knew, Uther had to know, whatever happened. She said as much. "You can't leave it for him to find out from someone else, Arthur, he needs to hear it from you. It would be better if it came from you, truly."

Arthur's voice broke in spite of himself. "He trusted _me_ , Guinevere. He trusted me with his business and I've destroyed it. He'll never forgive me."

Still sitting on Arthur's lap, Guinevere pulled him to her. "You don't know what it will do to the business yet. That's why you need to speak to your father, he might be able to think of something you haven't thought of yet. If the two of you put your heads together, maybe you'll come up with something." She held Arthur tighter against her. "Whatever happens, you're his son, he loves you."

"You think?" Arthur asked, breathing in Guinevere's comforting scent once more.

Guinevere eased Arthur out of her arms a little and looked into his eyes resolutely. "I know he does."

Arthur didn't speak. He pulled Guinevere back into his arms and held her as tightly as he could. "You do realise what it might mean for us, don't you? If we lose the business as well, it could take us years to recover, _if_ we recover. If we have to give up the house they'll either put it on the market through an estate agency, or they'll auction it. Either way, we would be unlikely to get anything like what we paid for it. I'd have to lay off all the staff at Pendragon Homes and I'd be out of work. I've only ever been an estate agent Guinevere, I'd be unemployable in the industry and virtually useless outside of it. It would be years before we could afford another place like this, if we ever could again."

Guinevere understood the gravity of their situation all too well. She felt it when Arthur trembled in her arms and clutched at her as if he thought she might disappear in a puff of smoke. Gathering her strength, she pulled out of Arthur's tight embrace and clasped his face in her hands again. She felt his freshly shaven skin against the dry skin of her hands when he tried to bow his head to avoid her gaze. Refusing to allow him to wallow in shame any longer, she tilted his head and looked into his eyes. "We will get through this together, you and me, just as we've got through everything else life has thrown at us. We need to go and speak to your father and then we'll make plans, Arthur. We'll get through this, we will."

Guinevere spoke with such strength, Arthur wanted to believe her. Buoyed by her faith, he gathered her back into his arms and prayed that she was right.


	20. Chapter 20

**My thanks to those of you who wrote reviews for my last chapter. I'm not quite sure if I've lost readers and reviewers, or if no one is reading Merlin fics now the series is long gone, but I must admit that a bit more feedback would be nice if people are still out there. The previous chapter wasn't quite as long as I hoped. Christmas got in the way. Still, I'm here now and I hope you all had a good Christmas and I wish you all a happy new year.**

 **One of my reviews from chapter 19 was interesting to me because the person understood exactly where I am going, whereas another review fascinated me because the reviewer suggested Arthur doesn't have faith in Guinevere. That's not true, not in my story. The person Arthur doesn't have faith in is Arthur. You have to remember what I said when I was writing Six Weeks To Midnight. Arthur's quote in the series of 'If I lose her I lose everything', is really fundamental to Arthur's character for me. In just a few words his whole character is summed up, his complete lack of belief in himself, his lack of confidence and low self-esteem, which he covers with arrogance a lot of the time. In chapter 19 and all through this, Arthur has been convinced that his reduced circumstances will push Guinevere away, not because he thinks she is that shallow, he knows she isn't, or because he doubts her love because he doesn't, but because he doesn't think he is really good enough for her, a belief that stems from the insecurities he's carried all his life, insecurities instilled in him when his father put his business above everything when Arthur was a child.**

 **Now Arthur has to face another fear, one that is equally as bad as facing Guinevere with the truth of what is going on, if not worse, telling his father, so I will let him get on and do that.**

It took Guinevere several more minutes to get Arthur out to the car to go and see his father. She coaxed, encouraged and argued, whilst Arthur did his best to distract her, but she refused to back down. Soon they were on the drive outside the house in the warmth of the late morning sunshine. Guinevere looked up at the cloudless blue sky and felt the heat of the sun against her skin and smiled. "Maybe we could go and have some lunch at the Rising Sun when we've seen your father?" she suggested as she walked to the passenger side of Arthur's car. She thought again, their money worries pushing their way to the front of her mind. "Then again," she said, her face falling, "we could just come home and have some lunch here, what do you think?" She got into the car before Arthur could reply.

Arthur got into the car beside his wife. He was moving slowly, as if all his limbs were being held down by weights. Every instinct he had wanted to get out of the car and go back into the house. Telling Guinevere the truth was hard enough, telling his father seemed impossible. "We could just go out for a few hours now, if you like?" Arthur replied, as brightly as he could. "In fact, why don't we do that, just go out on our own somewhere and have some lunch somewhere different, just the two of us?"

Guinevere turned to Arthur in her seat. "We have to go and see your father, Arthur. There's no point in putting it off, is there? The sooner we get this done, the sooner it will be out in the open and we can start putting it right."

Deep down Arthur knew Guinevere was right. He had to tell his father what was going on. It was the right thing to do, but every instinct he possessed recoiled from doing it. What it might mean for the business loomed in Arthur's mind, the thought of rival companies finding out and making use of it, but the thought of showing his father his failure lingered in his thoughts the most. If Pendragon Homes failed as a result of his mistake Arthur knew his father would never forgive him, it was that simple. He would have thrown away all the years of work his father had put into the company and he would have shattered the trust his father had shown in him when he asked him to take over the company when he retired.

Arthur knew his failure would mean that his father had ultimately sacrificed his childhood, all the time he could have spent with his son, for nothing. Would his father see it like that, or would he be more concerned about the damage to the business reputation he'd spent years building, not to mention the damage to the Pendragon name?

"Arthur, we need to go," Guinevere said after a moment, breaking into his thoughts. She reached over and patted his hand affectionately. "Come on, let's just get it over with."

Arthur heaved a sigh and started the car reluctantly. As he pulled out of the driveway onto the road, he turned to Guinevere for a moment and she smiled at him encouragingly. He smiled back, but his stomach was in knots. He felt much the same as he had as a young teenager, when he'd committed some minor misdemeanour at school and had been given detention or lines as a punishment. When he'd gone home and told his father what he'd done he was punished again. 'You are my son," his father would say, pacing up and down and glaring furiously. "They know you are my son. Do you want people to think I haven't brought you up properly? How dare you let me down!"

Arthur had always held back an urge to remind his father that he _hadn't_ brought him up at all, he'd been brought up by nannies, but he'd sensed that would have annoyed his father more so he'd kept his mouth shut and pushed the urge away. What wasn't so easy to push away was his father's words. The thought that he'd failed to live up to the standards his father expected of him. It made him feel small and insignificant, as if nothing he did would ever be right in his father's eyes. Even then he knew he'd only misbehaved in the first place because he knew it would be the one sure way of attracting his father's attention for a while, even if a lecture and being sent to his room 'to think about your behaviour' wasn't exactly the most enjoyable way to gain the attention of the only parent he'd ever known. Still, it had worked, his father had given him some of his time for a moment. Maybe it was worth the sense of shame and guilt he always felt when he sat alone in his room, just knowing that for a moment he'd had his father's undivided attention, not his precious business.

Arthur and Guinevere drove through the late morning light traffic in almost total silence. Every now and then Guinevere would attempt to make small talk, passing comment on the weather and how it would be great if the sunny, warm spell they were having lasted for a while so they could do things with the children when their long summer holidays began. Arthur would nod, taking comfort from the sound of her voice, but he couldn't join in. His mind kept wandering to what lay ahead and how his father would react when he told him everything.

It didn't take long to reach Uther's house. Soon Arthur's car scrunched over the gravel driveway and came to a halt. As soon as Arthur stopped the car Guinevere undid her seatbelt and turned to him. "It will be all right, you'll see," she soothed, reaching for his hand again.

"What makes you so sure?" Arthur asked, gripping Guinevere's hand as if his life depended on her.

"Because you're his son and he loves you," she smiled tenderly.

'I wish I could be so sure,' Arthur thought, but he kept the thought to himself as he let go of Guinevere's hand and followed her out of the car. As they walked towards Uther's front door Guinevere took Arthur's hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Giving Arthur a reassuring smile and retaining his hand in hers, Guinevere rang Uther's front doorbell with her free hand and they waited. It didn't take long for the front door to open. Uther smiled widely in surprise to see his son and daughter in law on the doorstep, but then his smile slipped away and he looked concerned. "It's good to see you both," he kissed Guinevere on the cheek in greeting and nodded at Arthur, who acknowledged his father with a small nod and then he swallowed hard as his throat went dry with nerves. "But you know it's far too early for you to pick the children up. Is something wrong?" His eyes flicked quickly between Arthur and Guinevere and she felt her husband's grasp on her hand tighten.

Giving Arthur another quick glance, Guinevere turned her attention to her father in law. "Don't worry, nothing is wrong with the children, they are fine. We do need to talk to you though, if you've got time?"

"Of course I've got time," Uther replied kindly, his eyes still switching between Arthur and Guinevere anxiously. The front door immediately opened wider and Uther gestured to grant Arthur and Guinevere entry to his home. They led the way down the hallway and Uther closed the front door and followed them. As he walked into his former family home, Arthur felt like a condemned man walking to his doom.

They all went to the living room and Arthur sat down on the sofa without being invited. Guinevere sat beside him and Uther sat down on the nearby armchair Amhar often used when she was with her grandfather, near the French doors that led out to the garden. An awkward silence descended for a moment, until Uther broke it. Guinevere felt Arthur flinch at the sound of his father's voice and her heart began to thud.

"So, what's going on?" Uther asked, his brow arching. "I don't see you very often at this time of the day. Are you well my dear?" He addressed Guinevere warmly.

"I'm fine, I'm really well," Guinevere attempted to reassure her father in law. "But Arthur has…. _We've_ got something to tell you," she went on, giving Arthur's hand another squeeze.

"That sounds a little ominous," Uther nodded as he spoke. He eyed Arthur closely for a moment. "What is it, what's the matter, why are you so quiet?" Uther's brow lowered into a deep frown of worry.

Feeling as if his life was flashing in front of his eyes, Arthur opened his mouth. "I didn't want to come here today," he admitted nervously, trying to think of how to explain what he needed to say to his father. "I didn't want to come, but Guinevere has persuaded me that it's the right thing to do. She thinks you've got a right to know what's going on and she's right, of course she is, so I'm here."

Uther's frown deepened. "Go on, please," he indicated to Arthur to keep talking while his mind began to think of all the things that might be wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur told Uther what he'd told Guinevere earlier. He said they faced losing their home because he wasn't earning enough to to pay the mortgage. He explained how he was struggling to get the money from the local authorities for the work he'd done for them and that they wouldn't see anything from the private developments until they were finished and he had no idea when that would be. He explained that he was spending less and less time running Pendragon Homes because the construction work took him away so much, but that meant that he wasn't earning enough to cover the mortgage repayments every month, so the house was at risk.

"I went to see Percival a while ago, when you were in Manchester," Uther said, after listening to his son intently for several minutes. "He seems like a very capable young man, very thoughtful and intelligent. He told me how you used to treat him like an equal, you talked to him he said, included him in every decision you made, but he said you've stopped doing that now. Percival said you check up on him now, you question everything he does. He said you've made him feel like an employee, not an equal, why is that?"

Arthur felt like a child under Uther's gaze. He had to stop himself bowing his head in shame and shaking his head as he would have done years before, when he couldn't explain to his father why he'd misbehaved at school again. The memory sent blood rushing through his veins and made his hair stand on end. "You checked up on me?" he demanded angrily.

"Arthur!' Guinevere exclaimed when she heard Arthur's voice rise. He'd let go of her hand when he started to speak. She caught hold of one of his arms as he sat forward on the edge of the sofa. "Don't shout at your father."

Uther turned to Guinevere. "It's fine, my dear," he said, gifting her with a hint of a grateful smile.

"Why were you checking up on me?" Arthur glared at his father, ignoring Guinevere's attempt to calm him.

"I was concerned," Uther said evenly, meeting Arthur's stormy expression with equanimity. "I was trying to find out what was going on."

"Why, so you could interfere?" Arthur's anger continued to rise. He could feel the red mist descending. He made no attempt to stop it. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, he was furious with his father. "What were you concerned about, your precious business?"

"Arthur, don't..." Guinevere interjected, sensing Arthur's temper was boiling over.

Uther shook his head vehemently. "I was concerned about _you_. Guinevere was worried sick about you and I couldn't just sit back and do nothing, not while you were God knows where doing God knows what. I had no intention of interfering Arthur, and if you recall, it is _your_ business now. All I did was go and speak to Percival to ask him when you might be back from Manchester, but he didn't even know you were there. Why did you stop talking to Percival, why did you start treating him like an employee? You of all people should know what that feels like, after all, I did it to you for years, didn't I?"

"This has got nothing to do with you and me!" Arthur said sharply, though his voice shook as he spoke. Somehow he hadn't been prepared for his father to be so calm. He'd expected his father to yell at him like he would have done in the past. He'd expected his father to fire questions at him and demand instant explanations. He hadn't expected his father to be so softly spoken, or to speak as if he felt responsible for something, as if he thought he'd played a part in the mess his son was in. "Why do you have to keep bringing up the past, why can't you just leave it alone? It's over with, so just leave it." Arthur's voice still shook as he spoke, though he did his best to hold on to his anger.

Uther shook his head sadly. "I can't leave it Arthur, as much as I would love to. I can't, because you can't forgive me, can you?" Uther looked at his son pointedly. "You can't forgive me for the way I treated you for years, but over this last year or so you've become more and more like me, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you..." Arthur tried, before allowing his voice to slip away. He was stunned. He felt as if he was standing outside of himself, watching himself with his father from a long way away. It was disorientating. He'd expected their conversation to go a certain way, but everything he'd expected had gone up in smoke because his father was being so imminently reasonable. Rather than attempting to avoid the issue as he would in the past, Uther was getting straight to the heart of the matter. It was confusing.

"You do know, Arthur, of course you do," Uther's voice filled with pain. "I overlooked you for years because I couldn't bear to look at you and see your mother looking back at me. For years you were a reminder of what I had and what I was foolish enough to lose when I lost sight of what was important. I took my grief out on you, I know that now. I did it because you were a constant reminder of your mother and I couldn't bear it, but I ran away from my responsibilities towards you because I was frightened. For years you frightened the life out of me Arthur, so I ran away from you, or rather, I ran away from allowing you to get close to me, because I'd learned enough from life to know that if you let people get close, they can hurt you. As you got older I learned to keep you close by controlling you. I manipulated you into coming to work for me. I controlled you by dictating what you did, what holidays you took, when I expected you back at work from your holidays, I even dictated when I wanted you back at work from your honeymoon, for goodness sake!" Uther's eyes shone and he released a small, humourless huff of laughter. "I controlled you to keep you close on my terms, Arthur, because I was too terrified of you to let you get close enough to hurt me, but I didn't want you to drift away from me altogether. What I never intended was to teach you that running away from your problems was the best way to deal with them, but you were right when you were here on the day Guinevere was rushed into hospital, that is what you learned from me and it is what you've been doing for the last year or so, isn't it? You've been running away, but at the same time you've been desperately trying to control everything you could control, haven't you?"

Arthur desperately wanted to deny running away, but he knew he couldn't. He knew now his father was right, he had spent most of the last year running away from Guinevere, from his children, even from his father, because he was too frightened to tell them the truth and admit his failure. Had he behaved like his father used to in other ways? He only had to think of Percival to know he had.

Percival was a partner in Pendragon Homes in all but name. From the time Arthur had seen his potential and promoted him to Pendragon Homes' main branch, Percival had become his right hand man. Arthur discussed problems at work with him, consulted him when he wanted a second opinion, he'd even given Percival the responsibility of running the office when he needed time off, especially when Guinevere was pregnant with Llachue and Amhar. That had all changed when Arthur began spending more and more time away because of the construction work. As things began to fall apart on the private developments when they had one problem after another, as he began to worry more about where the money was going to come from to pay the mortgage and as he began to lose control over the mess he was in, Arthur compensated by becoming controlling with Percival. Every time he went into Pendragon Homes he checked and rechecked every decision Percival had made in his absence, demanding explanations for everything the young man did. He issued instructions to the man he'd almost considered as a partner, expecting them to be carried out to the letter. Percival had tried to tell him what he was doing of course, he'd argued that he knew his job and didn't need to be checked up on like an office junior, but Arthur, becoming more and more paranoid about what would happen to Pendragon Homes if the truth of the mess he was in ever came out, refused to listen. He was behaving in exactly the same way as his father had once behaved towards him and he knew it.

"So," Uther spoke again and then cleared his throat. "So, how much do you owe the bank exactly and what have you done about it?"

This was it, Arthur thought. This was the point when his father would stop being reasonable. "I...I've barely paid anything on the mortgage for the last year," he admitted reluctantly, feeling the urge to punch whichever fool it was who said confession is good for the soul. This didn't feel good, he thought. It was mortifying. "So I owe the bank at least £30,000 and that doesn't include interest."

To his credit, Uther's eyes only widened for a second or two when Arthur said how much he owed and then he shook his head, took a deep breath and got to his feet. A moment later he was walking towards the living room door, leaving Arthur and Guinevere bewildered.

"Where are you going?" Arthur said, just as his father reached the living room door.

Uther looked over his shoulder at his son. "Where do you think I'm going? I'm going to get my cheque book."

Guinevere didn't have time to stop Arthur practically leaping to his feet. She got up with him and reached out for his hand in an attempt to keep him calm, but he was already shaking his head and his face was livid. "No, I don't want your money," he said grimly. "We didn't come here with our begging bowl in hand, we just came to tell you what's going on. I can look after my family perfectly well without your money."

"But we are grateful," Guinevere cut in, apologising to Uther for Arthur's sharp tone with her eyes. She bit her lip awkwardly and prayed Arthur would keep his temper in check.

Uther acknowledged Guinevere's thoughtfulness and then turned to his son. "Believe me Arthur, I know you can manage without me. Ever since you came back from Manchester you've made it abundantly clear that you've resented any attempts I've made to help you, presumably to show me how much you can manage on your own, but now it's time to accept help, even if it's just for Guinevere and the children's sakes."

Uther's mention of Guinevere and the children stoked Arthur's temper. He felt his heart rate increase, but he tried to stay in control of himself for Guinevere, knowing she wouldn't want him to fight with his father. "I said I can manage, thank you," he spoke through gritted teeth.

Appearing to give in, Uther walked back into the room, but he didn't sit down. He paced up and down as nonchalantly as he could while Guinevere sat back down gracefully and Arthur flopped back into the seat beside her.

"So, what plans have you made, what does the bank say?" Uther spoke again when the tense atmosphere in the room lightened a little.

"I haven't spoken to the bank," Arthur admitted, apologising to Guinevere with his eyes. "If I speak to the bank the other estate agents in the area will find out what's happened and it will destroy Pendragon Homes. I won't let that happen."

Uther stopped pacing abruptly and stood stock still, staring in disbelief at Arthur. "So what, you are going to stand back and risk losing your home, the roof over your wife and children's heads, because your ego is too fragile to risk the competition finding out, really?"

"It's got nothing to do with ego!" Arthur snapped. Seeing Guinevere flinch, he lowered his voice. "Can't you understand," he glared at Uther. "If the other agencies find out, we'll be finished. No one will come to us if they know I can't keep a roof over my own family's heads, so we'll have to close. I'll have to make all the staff redundant, I'll be unemployable and the business will be finished, so I can't tell the bank, I can't."

"So what are you going to do?" Uther asked, shaking his head at what he was hearing. "If your house is repossessed, where will you go? You could move in here, at least for a while, if…?" He let the rest of his thought hang in the air, his eyes flicking rapidly between Arthur and Guinevere.

Arthur couldn't look at Guinevere to see the hope in her eyes for a solution to their problems, even a temporary solution, like his father was suggesting. He knew there was no way he could live in the same house with his father again. He'd fought hard to put some distance between him and his father when he bought the flat he moved into just before he met Guinevere. He couldn't undo that now. Even if he did, there was no way it would work. Within a week of them moving in Uther would find a way to interfere and it would lead to arguments. Arthur knew he couldn't allow Guinevere and the children to be stuck in the middle between him and his father. "No," Arthur said resolutely after a moment. He turned to Guinevere as he spoke, saw the worry in her eyes, but at the same time something in her manner told him she understood why he couldn't just take the easy way out of their problems. The thought bolstered him. He turned back to his father. "We can't do that, I think you know that as well as I do."

Uther nodded thoughtfully. "I thought you wouldn't, but I had to ask."

"I'm grateful, truly," Arthur conceded. He found, to his surprise, that he spoke the truth. He was grateful for the thought, but there was no way he would even consider living with his father again.

"But if you won't move in here," Uther went on, his voice still sounding reasonable, but there was a more insistent edge to his tone that neither Arthur or Guinevere could miss. "you have to talk to the bank and you have to accept my help. You can't just do nothing, Arthur. This won't go away on its own."

"Do you think I don't know that!" Arthur cried incredulously before he lowered his voice when Guinevere glanced at him with a warning in her eyes. "I've been trying to come up with a way of getting out of this in a way that is as smooth as possible, with as little damage as possible, for months, but there is no way it can be done without risking Pendragon Homes and I can't take that chance, I won't, and I can't accept your money, it wouldn't be right. I need to sort this out on my own father, you have to understand."

Uther's expression had been even until now. He hadn't raised his voice, not once, since Arthur and Guinevere had walked into the room and Arthur had told him everything. Now, as Arthur watched, his father's face was like thunder. "If you do nothing you will lose your home," Uther spoke as if he was barely containing the urge to shout. "What do you think will happen to your children if you have nowhere to go Arthur, just tell me that?"

"This has got nothing to do with my children," Arthur glowered at his father furiously, his voice steely. "Don't you dare drag my children into this to push me into doing what you want."

"I'm doing no such thing," Uther's voice rose slightly. "I just want you to understand the repercussions of losing your home. If you have nowhere to go and you refuse to accept help, your children could end up in care and believe me, you don't want that to happen, I should know."

"Oh my God!" Guinevere's startled voice broke the tension between Uther and Arthur. Turning immediately in his seat, Arthur was confronted by his wife's terrified expression. She looked pale, as if someone had knocked all the air out of her lungs, but the worst thing was the look of terror in her eyes. She sat with her face in her hands, trembling all the way from her fingertips, staring between Uther and Arthur as if the bottom had fallen out of her world.

Pulling Guinevere into his arms, Arthur cradled her shaking form against him. "I won't let anything happen to our children," he attempted to soothe her. "I promise you, whatever happens, I won't let anyone take our children away. I'd die first, you know that."

Keeping Guinevere tightly in his arms, Arthur glared at his father. "Are you satisfied now? You know Guinevere has only been out of hospital for a couple of weeks, why did you have to say something like that?"

"I said it because it's true, Arthur," Uther turned his gaze to Guinevere and his eyes softened. "I didn't mean to upset you my dear and I'm so sorry, but Arthur needs to understand the gravity of the situation. If he continues to be stubborn, the children will be at risk, it's as simple as that."

"I am not being stubborn!" Arthur almost yelled in frustration, releasing Guinevere from his arms and jumping back to his feet before Guinevere could gather her thoughts enough to stop him.

"YOU ARE BEING STUBBORN!" Uther's increasingly fragile control snapped at last. "You won't accept my help, you won't go to the bank and let them advise you, all because you think it is more important that the business survives, well damn the bloody business Arthur, damn it to hell!"

"How can you say that?" Arthur demanded breathlessly. He felt like his father had levelled a punch to his guts and winded him, despite the fact that Uther had never moved an inch, not even when he shouted. "How can you, you of all people, say that to me?" Arthur caught his breath and finally gave free rein to the fury he'd been trying so hard to keep in check. Letting his guard down, he didn't raise his voice much above a whisper, but he never took his eyes off his father's face as he unleashed a torrent of rage.

"Arthur, please, don't," Guinevere sensed the danger and tried to cut through Arthur's anger, but all of a sudden it was as if he couldn't hear her. He remained fully focused on his father, as if no one else was in the room.

"You ruined my childhood by putting your business before me. I lost my mother because of your selfishness and that should have been enough for any child to deal with, but it wasn't enough for you, was it? You destroyed what was left of my childhood by letting me be brought up by nannies and making it perfectly clear that only one thing mattered in your life and it wasn't me, it was your precious bloody business. For years all I wanted from you was a bit of time father, just a few minutes where I was first in your mind and you weren't rushing off to work and shoving me off on the latest of the nannies, but you were never here. I spent birthdays, Christmases, school holidays, all of it, with nannies, because you were always too busy working to spare me a moment of your time, but you accuse _me_ of being stubborn and of putting the business first. Can you hear yourself?"

Uther's skin visibly paled in the face of Arthur's outpouring. He seemed to wilt as he struggled to come up with anything to say. He spoke after a moment, his voice shaking. "You know how sorry I am for the way I behaved towards you, Arthur. If I could go back and do things differently I would do it in a moment, but I can't, can I?"

Seeing Uther's obvious distress, Guinevere spoke and began to get to her feet. "Arthur, that's enough now, you've said enough. Let's just go home now and then, when you've both had time to think things through, we'll come back and you can both talk to each other properly." She stepped towards Arthur and went to pull him towards the living room door, but he was still glaring fixedly at Uther and stepped away from Guinevere.

"All my life I just wanted your approval, father, just a sign that you knew I existed. Every time I misbehaved at school it was because I knew that just for a moment you would give me some of your precious time, even if it was just to lecture me. Later, I put myself through college because I thought it would please you, but you never took the slightest bit of interest. I thought things might change when I went into Pendragon Homes with you. I thought you might see me for once, but I should have known better. You think I've treated Percival badly? Well you treated me, your own son, like the office tea-boy. I fetched and carried, I tidied up after you. I did your dirty work. Every time you upset someone, every time you needed to suck up to someone, you sent me, because that's what you thought I was good for, didn't you?"

Uther stood shaking his head. "I wanted to teach you how the business worked," he said desperately. "I wanted you to learn that you couldn't just come in at the top and have it easy. I got things wrong Arthur, I was heavy-handed and controlling, I know that, but it was only because I wanted the best for you."

Arthur laughed scornfully. "You wanted _the best_ for me? Is that why you never listened to a word I said about the way you were running the business into the ground, because that's what you were doing. You treated the staff like dirt, you thought of the other branches as competition. When I took over I spent months sorting out all the mess you'd made. I had to convince the other estate agencies I wasn't like you, that I wasn't going to cheat and lie my way to the top like you did. I brought that company into the 21st century, I built good working relationships, I encouraged the staff to see their own potential. I made that company what it is, father, but you've never even noticed. You've been too busy playing at being Grandpa to my children."

"Arthur, don't drag the children into this!" Guinevere scolded sharply, shaking her head in disbelief at the exchange playing out in front of her. "Don't say something you'll regret, please!"

Uther shook his head and gave Guinevere a look of gratitude for her attempts to halt Arthur's outburst, but he knew she was wasting her time."No, let him go on my dear, he obviously needs to get this out of his system. Go on Arthur," he addressed his son. As he spoke, Uther's skin regained its colour and he seemed to regain control of himself. "You obviously have more to say, presumably about your children. I assume you have something to say about the way I can spend time with your children that I never spent with you, the interest I take in them that I never took in you, is that it?"

Guinevere's interruption and his father's response to it left Arthur nonplussed. He stood open-mouthed and bewildered for a moment, trying to regain control of something that had slipped out of his grasp when his father pre-empted him easily, as if he'd known what was coming. "I..." He found his voice and then lost it again.

"Do you really need me to tell you why being a grandfather is so much easier for me than being a father was when you were your children's age, Arthur? I could tell you that I was alone with you, whereas you've got Guinevere by your side, but that would be a cop-out. As you've reminded me, I allowed nannies to bring you up. I played very little part in your upbringing, probably because mine was such a shambles. I had no idea how to even begin with you, but it wasn't because I wasn't interested, it was because I didn't know how to do it. Children don't come with a manual, Arthur. There is no book to turn to and I got things wrong, I got things very wrong. You paid for my mistakes and I'm more sorry about that than I can say, truly I am."

"That doesn't excuse it," Arthur said bitterly, finding his voice again. "You can't undo what you did to me by spending time with my children. You can spend every minute with them, you can buy them things like you do, you can take them out all you like, but it doesn't undo all the times you put Pendragon Homes first and made me feel like nothing."

"I don't seek to excuse it," Uther said honestly. "I make no excuse for being a dreadful father to you after your mother died and even before, if I'm completely honest. Your mother doted on you, she thought the sun shone out of you, so when she died I barely knew you at all and I had no idea how to change that, so I kept my distance. It was easier that way, I see that now."

"It wasn't easier for me," A lump rose in Arthur's throat as he spoke. He forced himself to stay in control of his emotions, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. "My mother was dead and you abandoned me. I was younger than Amhar is now and I was alone except for a stream of nannies who never lasted because you expected them to work all the hours God sent. You couldn't deal with me, but you think you can fix what you did to me by being a good grandfather?"

Uther shook his head vehemently. "That isn't what I think and it isn't what I've tried to do, I swear to you." Tears swam across Uther's vision as he spoke. He made no attempt to hide them or stop them falling.

"W-well," In the face of his father's tears, Arthur's emotions cracked. Hot tears began to stream from his eyes. "Well, what have you tried to do then, because I don't...I don't understand how you could have been such a bloody awful father and then turn around and be like Mary bloody Poppins with my children."

Uther swallowed hard and tried to collect himself. "I've tried to learn from my mistakes, Arthur. I made a lot of terrible mistakes with you and I've learned from them, but that isn't the only thing, it isn't even the most important thing."

"Well?" Arthur demanded, arching his brows in confusion. He ran an impatient hand over his eyes to stem his flow of tears.

A warm smile crossed Uther's lips. His tears still fell, but the warmth in his eyes transformed his features into something soft and achingly tender. "I let your children love me, Arthur. I stopped trying to shut the feelings I thought I'd buried with your mother out and I let your children get close to me. The closer they got, the easier it was to let go of my defences and let them love me and the easier it was to love them in return, because I do, Arthur. I love your children all three of them, Gwydre as well as Llachue and Amhar, more than I can express, I swear."

"Why?" Arthur asked, while something inside him seemed to shift. For months he'd felt like he'd been living in a dark tunnel. Now, suddenly, a small light appeared ahead. It was tiny, just a sliver of light in the distance, but it was there. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach it more than anything in that moment. "What makes them so special?"

"They are yours," Uther said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I look at your children and it is like having you at their age again. The only difference is that I'm not running away from it now. I used to look at you and see your mother Arthur, and it was painful. I should have held on to you for your mother's sake. I should have tried harder with you, I know that, but I couldn't do it, it was just too painful and I was too frightened. To my shame I ran away from my responsibilities. That was my mistake and I'll regret it until the day I die, but I look at your children and I see you, all the bits of you I didn't manage to ruin with my foolishness and I'm so proud of you Arthur, more proud than I can say, but I am also reminded of something I should have said to you long ago, something I've never been able to put into words, because I was too much of a coward to try."

"What is that?" Arthur asked croakily as his mouth went dry. For a reason he couldn't explain, even to himself, his heart was hammering in his chest.

"That I love you," Uther said simply, weeping again as he spoke. "I told you once before that I know you felt unloved as a child, but it was never the case. What I've never done, ever, is say the words to you and I should have done. I should have said it many times and I'm sorry that it has taken all this for me to say it now, but it's the truth, Arthur. You are my son and I love you, I always have, I always will."

Arthur stared at his father, unable to move or think. Inside he felt like he was bursting with energy he'd never known before. Goosebumps broke out on his skin and his hair stood on end. He felt like he'd been struck by lightening. He felt numb with shock. Then, as the seconds went by, a cynical voice in his head reminded him that his father was good at playing games to get what he wanted. His mind went over all the times when Uther would have said anything, done anything, to achieve a goal. "H-How do I know you're not just saying that to make me accept your money?" He heard himself say the words that were in his mind.

"Oh, Arthur!" He turned to Guinevere. She was weeping softly. As he turned to her she frowned at him reproachfully through her tears. "Your father is telling you the truth, can't you see?"

Arthur turned back to his father. He stared at him intently, studied him for any sign of deception. His father looked back at him unflinchingly, tears still flowing from his eyes. Uther's eyes shone with his tears, but there was something else in his gaze, something that made Arthur edge closer to him. The open affection and warm pride in Uther's gaze seemed to wrap around Arthur, filling him from the inside out, releasing something inside him he'd locked away for years. Heaving a shuddering sigh, he edged closer, still studying his father's expression. He felt himself growing under his father's steady gaze, like a flower opening up in the sunlight. Unable to stop himself, he stepped closer to his father, close enough to touch, but he held back, waiting. He didn't have to wait very long. In a moment Uther stepped forward and opened his arms, reaching out for his son while his tears cascaded down his face.

Stepping into his father's embrace at last, years of longing poured out of Arthur. Sobbing, blinded by his tears, he reached out for the one solid thing in front of him. His father's arms tightened around him and pulled him closer, until his face was buried against Uther's racing heartbeat. He gave in, held on to his father and felt like he'd come home for the first time in years.

Guinevere wept with relief. She stood silently watching father and son hold each other and knew something had changed between them forever. She knew they would probably argue in the future. They were strong characters, they both knew their own minds and they were both fiercely independent, but whatever lay ahead, the pain and loss that had tarnished their past would never come between them again.

Uther and Arthur stood in each others arms for what seemed like an age. They held each other and sobbed, each of them releasing all the pent up emotions that had stood in their way for so many years. When they ran out of tears they stood in silence, both of them reluctant to break the moment between them, until Uther found his voice again. "Please let me help you," he implored urgently. "I'm not trying to control you or make you do something you don't want to do. I just want to help you because I'm your father and I love you. Please let me help you, please."

Arthur edged out of his father's arms slowly. He felt exhausted. He ached everywhere and wanted to sleep, but he knew he couldn't, not yet, not until his father knew everything. "I didn't refuse before because I was being stubborn, or because I was putting the business before anything else," he said, looking into his father's eyes. He was almost relieved to see his father looking every bit as shattered as he felt.

"Well, why then?" Uther asked, though he nodded to show he believed what Arthur said.

Arthur took a breath and then released it slowly. "I knew that if I told you and spoke to the bank, the other companies in the area would find out and we would be finished."

Uther nodded, "Yes, but I've already told you, it doesn't matter. You have to think about what you need, Arthur. You need to think about you, Guinevere and your children, because that's what is important."

Arthur heaved another sigh. Unable to look at his father now, he bowed his head and spoke to his shoes, reminded again of being a child, apologising for his latest bad behaviour and waiting for his father to punish him. "But you trusted me with the business, father. You gave it to me when you retired and you expected me to make it bigger and better, but I've ruined it. I didn't mean to, I never meant any of it to happen. I thought it would be all right, that I'd just do the construction work as a side-line for a while, but it got completely out of hand and I thought you'd hate me for failing."

"Arthur, look at me," Uther said gently, more gently than Arthur had ever heard his father speak to him before.

Reluctantly, Arthur looked up into his father's eyes. He heard Uther sigh heavily and then he watched as a look of grim determination crossed his father's features. "There is nothing on God's earth that would ever make me hate you Arthur, do you hear me?"

"But…?" Arthur began to speak, but he had no idea what he was trying to say. He closed his mouth abruptly, looked his father in the eye and nodded.

"What made you go into construction in the first place, wasn't the business enough?"

Arthur heard his father's question and knew there was no point in lying. He didn't want to lie to his father, not now. "I did it because it was something you'd wanted to do but you never got round to it," he admitted. He felt his colour rise in his cheeks as he spoke, but it was the truth and he wouldn't hide from it, not now. "I did it to prove to you that I could do something you'd never been able to do."

Uther nodded thoughtfully. "Well then, part of this mess is my fault."

"I didn't say that," Arthur heard the way his father spoke, almost as if he was happy to take the blame for something that wasn't his fault. "I never said that, I'm to blame, it's all my fault."

To Arthur's amazement, Uther shook his head and smiled. "You've just more or less admitted that you went into construction to get one over on me."

"Yes, but..." Arthur shut up and shook his head, baffled by the smile that was written all over Uther's face.

"So," Uther went on, almost beaming. "You've shown me that we're not that different after all. because that's exactly what I would have done. It's what I did when I started Pendragon Homes. I did that to rise above your grandfather Arthur, to be better than he was."

"Yes, but you succeeded," Arthur sighed, shaking his head at the glee in his father's eyes. "You started Pendragon Homes and you made it a success, but if I lose our house, I will lose everything, including Pendragon Homes, can't you see that?"

Uther's face straightened. "I can see that, which is why I am offering to help you, but can't you see, you have succeeded too and in ways I never did."

Arthur frowned, confused. "What are you…?"

Uther chuckled, something Arthur couldn't recall him ever doing before. He'd heard his father laugh in the last few years, but he'd never heard the hearty chuckle his father had just released. Before he could remark on it, he found himself being turned around. He almost went dizzy when his father grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him until he was standing with his back to his father, facing Guinevere. She was sitting now, her hands in her lap. She smiled softly at Arthur when their eyes met across the room. He smiled back, grateful beyond words that she'd pushed him into seeing his father, but even more grateful that she'd stayed through everything he'd put her through over the last year. He promised himself, he would never let her down again.

"That is your success," Uther spoke, interrupting Arthur's thoughts. "Guinevere and your children are your greatest achievement, Arthur. The truth is that I lost your mother even before she died, because I was selfish and thoughtless. You and I were estranged for years because I couldn't face up to my mistakes, but you've still got Guinevere and your children."

"I haven't been such roaring success lately, have I?" Arthur spoke to his father, but he looked into Guinevere's eyes, regret for all the times he'd failed her filling him. "It took Guinevere nearly dying to wake me up to how stupid I've been."

"Your mother did die," Uther said sadly. "Your mother died, but it still didn't shock me out of myself. It took me years, decades, to face up to my mistakes and it has taken me until today to start putting them right and show you that I can be the father you deserve."

Arthur turned on his heel and faced his father again. "Is that why you want to give me the money, you think you need to prove something to me, because it's not true, father. You don't need to prove anything to me, not now." To Arthur's surprise, he found he was speaking the truth. Uther didn't need to prove anything to him any more. All the anger, all the resentment he'd carried for years, was gone because he knew without a doubt, his father loved him.

"I want to give you the money because I have it to give you," Uther said, shaking his head. "I can't sit back in comfort with money in the bank doing nothing while you lose everything you've worked yourself into the ground for, because I am your father and I love you, so please, just do this for me, accept the money, talk to the bank, sort out the mess before it's too late."

Arthur considered what his father was saying. The money would help, he couldn't deny that. It would allow him to pay off what he owed and it would give him time to talk to the bank and see if they would come to an arrangement with him about the mortgage until such time as he would be able to pay them in full again. The problem was him, he knew that. He didn't want to be beholden to anyone, let alone his father. If his father had taught him anything as a child, it was how to stand on his own two feet. He'd done it all his life, been self-sufficient and independent, until he met Guinevere and his need to be with her outweighed his need to prove he didn't need anyone to prop him up. In any case, he mused to himself, Guinevere was independent enough for both of them, she always had been. Still, when it came to the business, he was his own man, he always had been and he didn't want to change that, not completely. Then, out of the blue, he had a thought, just a glimmer of an idea. He looked his father in the eye. "What about you making the money a loan?"

Uther's brows arched. "You don't have to do that, I want to give you the money."

Arthur nodded. "I know you do, but I can't accept it on those terms, so how about you invest the money in Pendragon Homes' future and I pay you back in reasonable instalments for now and then I pay you the bulk of the money back when the private developments are completed?"

Uther considered for a moment and then he grinned. "An interest free loan?"

"If you like," Arthur conceded the point, cracking a smile of his own before his face straightened. "I will pay you back, father," he said solemnly. "I will pay you back every penny, I swear."

Uther nodded seriously and then his smile broke through again. He held out his hand, thumb upwards. "Do we have a deal, Mr Pendragon?"

Breathing easily for the first time in months, Arthur nodded. "We have a deal, Mr Pendragon," and then, without any hesitation or embarrassment, he ignored his father's hand and stepped forward into his arms. "Thank you," he whispered just loud enough for Uther to hear. "I won't let you down."

Stunned for a moment, Uther embraced his son tightly. He heard Arthur speak and his embrace tightened around him. "You could never do that," he choked out, his emotions bubbling to the surface again. "You've never let me down in your life." Holding Arthur against him, inhaling the scent of the hair that was so like Igraine's, Uther knew he meant every word.


	21. Chapter 21

**Well now, the last chapter turned out to be very emotional. It was strangely difficult to write at first. Arthur was riding roughshod over the plans I had for the chapter, which was something rather more fiery and less weepy than it turned out. Originally I planned a lot of exclamation marks and a lot of capital letters to indicate shouting, but Arthur wouldn't comply. Then it occurred to me that what Uther has done over the years is cause Arthur pain. Yes, he's made him angry, but the bigger point, at least in the way I write Arthur and I think to a great degree in the series, has been that constant drip feed of negativity Uther provided, undermining Arthur in a lot of ways, chipping at his self-worth, but also in this, the way Uther put the business in front of everything else, including his son, which has hurt Arthur every bit as much as it has made him angry, maybe even more so. The mirror in the series of course is the way Uther put Camelot in front of everything else. It occurred to me some time ago that though Uther made peace with Arthur to a great degree in Six Weeks To Midnight and gave Arthur a lot of insight into his character, he'd never really apologised for his past behaviour and he'd never told his son he loved him, not explicitly, so I felt that was important. What I hope I have shown is that the wolf at the door in the story title was not just Arthur's self-doubt and the way that has impacted on him and Guinevere. It is also the fact that though Uther and Arthur had moved on from the past and they both understood it better, they had never really confronted it fully, but now they have.**

Arthur and Guinevere stayed with Uther for some time that day. Guinevere watched Arthur and his father talk about what would happen next and felt like something tangible had changed between them. Uther was a lot more open and less inclined to tip-toe around Arthur for fear of saying the wrong thing, while Arthur was less inclined to be defensive and a lot less inclined to take anything his father said personally.

Uther had made some tea eventually and they all sat in the living room to talk over how Arthur planned on getting out of the mess he was in.

"If you continue to have trouble with the local authorities," Uther said, sipping on his tea and lowering himself back down into the armchair he'd vacated earlier. "I might be able to help, if you like?"

"How?" Arthur said quizzically. "I can hardly turn around and say 'pay up or I'll send my father around,' can I?" Arthur took any potential heat out of what he said by cracking into a smile. "I'm not twelve any more, father."

Uther smiled and shook his head. Guinevere thought he looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She sensed that though Arthur hadn't offered his father absolution from the past, Uther's genuine remorse and the way he'd revealed his feelings for Arthur had finally given them both permission to let it go. She thought of her own childhood, how her Dad had never ended a day without telling her and Elyan he loved them, even during the times when Elyan was at his most unruly. Guinevere knew Tom always believed that if you felt love, you should say it, so she couldn't imagine how she would feel if he'd never put his feelings for her into words. What she had seen with her own eyes was what it meant to Arthur to hear it now. She knew the way he'd sobbed when his father said the words would live with her for a long time, along with the way he looked now in his father's company. He seemed at ease, comfortable, sure of himself. It suited him, she thought, edging slightly closer to him on the sofa and taking the hand that wasn't holding his cup of tea. Still talking to his father, he squeezed her hand affectionately, telling her without words that he knew she was still there.

"No, I know you're not," Uther went on, his voice light. "But I had a lot of fingers in a lot of pies in the business world when I was working," he explained mysteriously. "I built up a few connections, made certain contacts and found out a few things that might be useful, that's all."

Arthur's brows rose. "Have you got some dirt on someone, because if you have…?" Guinevere sensed Arthur's reluctance to play games with people. She knew very well, he preferred to be honest with people and deal with them in the way he expected them to deal with him. She admired him for it.

Uther grinned at his son, a sight that made Guinevere smile in spite of herself. "Well, not dirt exactly. I'm not privy to people's extra-marital going's-on, that sort of thing, though I don't doubt that sort of thing goes on, but let's just say I know a few people whose expenses claims are questionable, people who have a flexible relationship with the truth on their tax returns, that sort of thing. I could give you some names of people who could cut through the red tape very quickly if they have enough motivation."

Arthur pursed his lips, clearly considering what to say. "I won't resort to blackmail, father. That isn't me." His voice was serious, though it held no anger.

Uther nodded thoughtfully. "You wouldn't have to. All you'd have to do is make conversation with people, ask after them and their families and then send them my regards, which I would mean very sincerely of course," his eyes lit up and a hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. "Then you'd just mention that you're my son and I've told you about the old times, the meetings I attended and so on. You wouldn't have to threaten, blackmail or bribe anyone, there would be nothing underhand. All you'd need to do is let slip that you are aware of certain things in a convincing way, give them the impression you know more than you do, that's all, and everything you are owed will appear, as if by magic."

"Mmmm," Arthur sighed. "I don't know, it just seems a bit..." He couldn't think of an appropriate word. What his father proposed wasn't blackmail exactly, he knew that, but was it really ethical?

"Look," Uther said, exhaling as he spoke. "They owe you money for work you did in good faith. All you would be doing is dropping a hint that you are related to me, that's all. You would have no control over how they interpret what you are saying, but you would be getting what is rightfully yours, because it is your money they are holding on to after all."

Arthur nodded non-committally. "I'll think about it," he said thoughtfully, turning over what his father had said in his mind. "But thanks for the advice."

Uther nodded and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards when Arthur thanked him, but Guinevere noticed the way his eyes shone more than anything. Somehow it showed the sudden shift in his relationship with Arthur better than anything else could.. "It might also be a good idea if I go with you to the bank, just to explain about our agreement," Uther went on. Guinevere sensed his reluctance to push Arthur too much too soon and her heart went out to him. He was still finding his way through the mire of what the boundaries might be between him and Arthur, she thought, the line where offering help became interference in Arthur's eyes, but she admired him for trying.

Guinevere was surprised by Arthur's response. "I'm tempted to say I can manage," he admitted awkwardly, "but I actually agree. In fact, I think we should put our agreement on some sort of formal footing anyway, just so we know where we are."

"I'm coming to the bank with you too," Guinevere jumped into the conversation.

"What about the children?" Arthur turned to Guinevere in surprise when she spoke. "They'll be finishing school for six weeks tomorrow and we probably won't get into see the bank manager until next week at the earliest."

"I don't care," Guinevere said decisively. "We'll have to sort something out, because your father and I need to be there." She softened when she looked into Arthur's eyes. "You've handled all our finances, the bills, the mortgage and so on, since we got married and I've let you do it without a thought, but it's time I involved myself a bit more. I need to know what's going on."

Uther's presence in the room was almost forgotten as Arthur turned in his seat to look at Guinevere closely. "You know I never meant to hide anything from you, don't you? I wanted to tell you, but it just got harder and harder to do it. I was ashamed of the mess I got us into, that's all. I was trying to protect you too, I didn't want you to have the worry that I had."

Guinevere sighed and squeezed Arthur's hand. "You don't need to be ashamed, not now, and you don't need to shield me from the realities of life, Arthur. I'm not one of the children and I'm not going to fall apart at the first sign of a problem. I'm your wife, I love you and we're supposed to be a partnership, so I need to know exactly what's going on with our finances. I'm coming with you to the bank and that's final."

Knowing Guinevere wouldn't give in, Arthur backed down. "We'll have to try to get a morning appointment with the bank then. If we can, maybe Leon or Gwaine would have the children for a while, before they open the Rising Sun."

Glad that Arthur had seen her point of view, Guinevere gifted him with a tender smile.

A while later, Arthur and Guinevere got up to go. Uther looked at the time as he got to his feet to see his son and daughter in law out. "Gosh, I'll be going out to pick up the children in an hour or so, where has the day gone?"

"Why don't we go and pick them up?" Guinevere turned to Arthur when they were halfway down the hallway. "We could go home now, maybe have something light to eat because it's getting late and then we could pick the children up. It would save your father going out, and it would save us having to come back out to pick the children up from here, not that I would mind," she added quickly, turning to Uther considerately.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Arthur frowned with concern at Guinevere. "This the first day you've really been out since your surgery, you don't need to overdue it and if father doesn't mind..." He let the rest of his thought hang in the air.

"I really wouldn't mind, my dear," Uther said kindly. "It's no bother to pick up the children from my point of view, but it does seem silly for you two to come back out through the traffic to pick them up. I could drop them over to you, if it would help."

"No," Guinevere shook her head, her eyes taking in Uther and Arthur. They both still looked shattered from their emotional encounter. Uther looked fit for an afternoon nap, not looking after two children for at least an hour, she thought, but she didn't voice it. "I'm fine, really, we'll pick up the children today."

Uther kissed Guinevere goodbye and then he seemed to wonder what to do for a few seconds before he hugged Arthur quickly and patted him on the back. Both men laughed awkwardly as they let each other go, still finding the quick change in their relationship difficult to get used to.

Uther stood on the doorstep while Arthur and Guinevere got back into the car and then he watched them pull off the driveway, giving them a last wave before closing his front door.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Arthur sighed heavily when he pulled out of Uther's driveway and reached the main road. "I don't know about you, but I'm knackered."

Guinevere smiled gently. "I told you it would be all right, your father loves you."

"Yes, well, I know that now," Arthur nodded thoughtfully, realising it was true. He finally believed his father loved him. "I just never expected him to say it, that's all. He was always so cold and aloof when I was a child. He kept me firmly at arms length, but if I got too far out of his reach he'd control me enough to pull me back to him. It was confusing, I never knew where I stood with him."

"It's hard to imagine he never told you he loved you," Guinevere admitted, shaking her head. "When I look back, when I think about what my Dad was like, he never ended the day without saying it to me and Elyan, especially after Mum died. He really does think that if you feel love, you should express it, but I'm sure he was trying to love us even more to make up for Mum not being there too."

Keeping his eyes on the road, Arthur nodded. "I couldn't believe it when my father said it today. He never said it, not once, when I was a child. He was there so rarely too, unless there was the odd night when the nanny had the night off and he had to be around for me, so I grew up thinking he didn't love me and I was just in the way. Over the last few years, since he started to change, I'd started to think he loved me, but when he said it today, I..." Arthur stopped talking when he felt the rising burn of tears in the back of his throat. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard to stay in control. He cleared his throat awkwardly and a blush crept over his cheeks. "I just didn't know how much I needed to hear him say it," he choked out, blinking rapidly to stem the tide of his emotions.

Guinevere reached over and stroked Arthur's cheek as he fought for control of his feelings. She saw the tears swimming in corner of his eye and ached for him. "It's all right," she soothed him tenderly. "You've had it out with your father now, you've cleared the air between you and you can start again properly."

"Thanks to you," Arthur said gratefully, heaving a shuddering sigh. "If you hadn't pushed me into seeing him today I don't know what would have happened, especially with how I've been lately. Somehow it's been like all the years of frustration with him have been building up lately, but I shouldn't have accused him of being responsible for my mother's death, should I? I was just so angry with him, Guinevere. In that moment I would have said anything to him. I know he probably should have driven her to my grandmother's house instead of her going alone, but in the end she had an accident, I know that, so I shouldn't have said that to him."

Guinevere shook her head thoughtfully. "Your father knows you didn't mean it. You were both on edge and we can all say things when we're angry, Arthur. An apology wouldn't hurt, but don't dwell on it too much. You've made your peace with your father, that's the important thing."

Arthur nodded. He knew Guinevere was right, what mattered now was the future, not the past, but as he nodded, he thought of someone else he needed to speak to. "On the subject of apologies, I need to speak to Percival and clear the air a bit. Would you be all right tomorrow if I went into work for a while, just to see Percival and see how things are going? I'll take the children to school first and then, if you'll be all right, I'll go into work for a while. I wouldn't be long, probably no more than an hour so, if you'd be all right until I'm back?"

"I'll be fine," Guinevere replied immediately. "You don't have to rush back, take your time."

Arthur noticed the enthusiasm in Guinevere's voice and turned his head to look at her for a second. Her eyes were bright and shining and a wide smile graced her lips. "You look very pleased about the idea of getting rid of me, Mrs Pendragon," he said dryly. "I better not come back and find you doing too much, you are still recovering from surgery, remember?"

"You fuss too much," Guinevere replied, but she gifted Arthur with a loving smile, until it slipped away and she was more serious when he turned his attention back to the road. "In any case, won't you have to start thinking about going back to work soon? I'm not trying to get rid of you, but..."

Guinevere didn't complete what she was saying. She didn't need to, Arthur thought. His mind turned to the cheque his father had given him before they left him for the day. It was now in Arthur's trouser pocket, waiting to be paid into the bank. It would pay off the debt he'd run up over the last year, he mused, but it wouldn't help with the mortgage payments in the months ahead. Only earning some decent money would help with that, he thought, especially if the bank decided to be difficult about renegotiating the terms of the mortgage, so Guinevere was right, he did need to start thinking about going back to work. "I will need to go back soon," Arthur conceded, knowing there was no point in denying it, "but the children are out of school for six weeks from tomorrow, so I won't go back full time yet, not if it means you being on your own with them too much and putting yourself at risk too soon."

"I am almost better," Guinevere said, knowing perfectly well Arthur would worry about how she would cope with the children on her own. "I know I can't drive yet and I wouldn't risk it, especially not with the children in the car, until I know I can safely do an emergency stop, but in every other respect I'm fine. Your father probably plans on having the children quite a bit anyway over the holidays, so I wouldn't be on my own with them all the time."

"All right," Arthur nodded, getting the idea that Guinevere had given some thought already to the time when he needed to go back to work, "I'll see Percival tomorrow and make my peace with him and then I'll speak to the bank and make an appointment to see the manager. We could speak to Gwaine today and ask if he'd mind looking after the children when we speak to the bank. We could go and see him and Leon before Llacheu comes out of school. I can't see it being a problem though," he grinned as a thought went through his mind. "Gwaine's a bigger child than either of our two when he's in the mood."

Some time later, after a quick late lunch, Arthur and Guinevere went out to pick up Amhar from school. When she spotted them in the school hall when the bell rang to signal the end of the day, she ran into her mother's arms and hugged her tightly, before turning to her father and doing the same. Arthur picked her up and hugged her against him, until she frowned, her features reminding him of his father. "Where's Ganpa?" Amhar interrupted Arthur's thought. "I thought Ganpa was coming to pick me up today?"

"Grandpa was coming to pick you up," Guinevere explained carefully, trying not to say too much for fear of worrying her daughter unnecessarily, "but Daddy and I had to go and see Grandpa about something earlier, so we decided we would come and pick you and your brother up instead."

Amhar turned inquisitive eyes on her father. "What did you have to see Ganpa about?"

Though Arthur was looking at his daughter as she spoke, he saw Guinevere shaking her head in his peripheral vision. He forced a smile to his lips, knowing Guinevere wouldn't want to worry the children unless they really needed to. "Nothing to concern you, young lady," he jiggled Amhar in his arms as he spoke, making her giggle.

"Right, come on you," Guinevere brightened her voice deliberately to distract Amhar from asking any more questions. "We've got time to go and see Uncle Gwaine before Llacheu finishes school. Maybe Uncle Leon will be around and we'll get a chance to ask him how Auntie Mithian is doing with her preparations for the new baby. It won't be long before the baby comes now."

"How long?" Amhar asked, her blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Probably a few weeks, darling," Guinevere said carefully. "It can sometimes be difficult to tell with babies, they come when they are ready a lot of the time, but it shouldn't be too long now."

Amhar considered this piece of information thoughtfully. She seemed to think about what to say for a moment before finding her voice again. "The baby will come out of Auntie Mithian's tummy, won't it?"

"That's right," Guinevere said, sensing what Amhar's next question would be. She glanced at Arthur and saw the way he looked like he wanted to disappear or fall through the floor, or anything to avoid what they both knew was coming. He was smiling too brightly, Guinevere thought, stifling an urge to laugh at the way his grin had become fixed, as if it had been painted on to his face. He was obviously trying to distract Amhar somehow, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. When Amhar had decided on something, that was it, she was exactly like her father in that respect. If she had a question, she would persist until she got an answer.

"But how did it get in there?" Amhar asked innocently, her eyes wide.

Arthur's smile vanished as a hint of panic appeared in his eyes. H turned his head to look at Guinevere so quickly, it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash, she thought, rolling her eyes at him before turning her attention back to Amhar. "Well," she began, thinking of what to say. Amhar was four, she reminded herself. She wasn't asking for details, she was just interested because Mithian was pregnant. "Well," she started again. "Mummy's and Daddy's have a special sort of cuddle and they make a baby."

Amhar nodded, a small frown of worry lining her brow. "So if I cuddle someone, I'll have a baby?" she suddenly eyed her father with horror.

Guinevere thought she heard Arthur stifle something that could have been a nervous laugh and mutter 'you'd better bloody not," under his breath. He quickly disguised what he said by breaking out into a cough, which only stopped when Guinevere fixed him with a glare. His eyes shone with suppressed amusement and he nodded encouragingly for her to go on. Rolling her eyes at him again, she turned back to Amhar. "No darling," she said gently, sensing Arthur's eyes on her. "A cuddle that makes a baby is a special one, just for grown ups. You might have it when you're older," she wilfully ignored Arthur's muttered 'over my dead body,' "but not yet, not for a long time."

Amhar's frown slipped away with this piece of information. She turned to her father, who appealed to Guinevere with his eyes for help, but she smiled innocently and resolutely ignored him. "Can I have a drink at the restaurant, I'm thirsty?" Arthur's relief at Amhar's sudden shift in the conversation was palpable. He beamed and nodded far too enthusiastically. "Of course you can have a drink, shall we get going then?" With that, Guinevere shook her head at Arthur and he winked at her before he followed her out to the car with Amhar holding him tightly again.

A while later, Arthur and Guinevere walked into the Rising Sun. Amhar held Guinevere's hand when they got out of the car outside the restaurant, but once she was inside she let go of her mother and went up to the bar confidently. "Hello Princess, what can I get you?" Gwaine greeted his God daughter, watching as she attempted to climb onto a bar stool until Arthur was close enough to pick her up and place her down on the stool, where she made herself comfortable.

"Can I have a glass of lemonade?" Amhar asked.

"What's the magic word?" Guinevere reminded her daughter gently.

Amhar thought for a second while Gwaine waited for her, his hand already poised on a bottle of lemonade behind the bar. Understanding dawned in Amhar's eyes and she inhaled sharply. "Can I have a glass of lemonade, please?" she asked politely.

"Your wish is my command, my lady," Gwaine grinned, finding a tall glass behind the bar and raising the bottle of lemonade with a flourish before pouring a glassful and decorating the glass with a cocktail umbrella and a straw. "What will you two have?" Gwaine spoke to Arthur and Guinevere when Amhar was settled, happily sucking her lemonade up through the straw.

Arthur turned to Guinevere and she shook her head. "We're fine thanks," Arthur said, "We've got to pick up Llacheu in a while, but I do need to ask a favour, if you don't mind?"

" _We_ need need to ask," Guinevere cut in, taking a seat on a bar stool next to Amhar.

Gwaine frowned. "What is it, what's the matter?"

Arthur shook his head quickly, seeing the worry forming on Gwaine's face. "There's nothing to worry about, but would you or Leon be able to look after Amhar and Llacheu for an hour or two one day, probably next week? I can't be any more exact than that about when, but we need to have a word with the bank manager and we both have to be there," he eyed Guinevere as he spoke and she gifted him with a hint of a smile.

"Does this have anything to do with why you've been behaving like a bear with a sore ar...with a sore head lately?" Gwaine asked, changing what he asked abruptly when Guinevere shook her head at him and indicated towards Amhar with her eyes.

Arthur nodded, knowing there was no point in hiding anything from Gwaine. Besides, he told himself, if Gwaine was going to look after the children while they went to the bank, he had a right to know something. "I've been in a bit of a mess," he admitted honestly, trying not to say too much within Amhar's hearing. "I was trying to sort it out on my own, but it didn't work out too well for me."

Gwaine nodded, but he didn't ask any questions, for which Arthur was grateful. "So, you're sorted out now?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"

Arthur heaved a sigh and nodded. "Almost, I just need to see the bank. If that goes all right we'll be fine, so can you have the children for us? It should only be for a couple of hours one day. I'll try to get a morning appointment with the bank if I can. I'll let you know what day as soon as I know."

Gwaine nodded. "You know very well I'll look after the kids. Try to get an appointment for next Wednesday if you can and then Sefa and I will look after the kids at home. Sefa's off work all day, she'd enjoy seeing the kids, it'll be practice for us."

Guinevere's eyes widened. Gwaine saw the way they lit up and shook his head, a tiny hint of a sad smile on his lips. "We're not expecting, that would be too much to ask." A moment later, his face brightened. "We've decided we are going to look into adoption seriously. Ideally we'd want a baby, but we've found out that might not be possible, but there are lots of older kids waiting for a home, so…." he let the thought go and shrugged.

Guinevere nodded sympathetically, knowing how much Gwaine and Sefa longed for a baby of their own. "You'd be making a child happy Gwaine, that's the most important thing. I know people say blood is thicker than water, but it's not, not really. So, what happens now?"

Gwaine sighed. "It's a long process, they have to do all sorts of checks to make sure what sort of people we are. If we are accepted we'll have to make some changes. Sefa will want to go part time for the agency to fit in with a child and I'll need to cut back on my hours here, but we'll see if they accept us first."

"They'd be stupid not to," Arthur said seriously.

Gwaine shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know, you see things in the papers all the time about people not being able to adopt for really stupid reasons. They might take one look at me, knowing I run this place with Leon and they could refuse me and Sefa, so I won't count my chickens just yet. I won't build Sefa's hopes up just to disappoint her again."

Now look," Arthur spoke up, shocked by the defeat in Gwaine's usually confident voice. "You've worked hard to get this place going and you've made a success of it at a time when most businesses in the area have struggled. If they've got any sense," he continued, speaking as firmly as he could without raising his voice, "they'll see two hard working, decent people who have a lot to offer a child."

"Arthur's right, Gwaine," Guinevere nodded in approval of Arthur's attempt to lift his friend's mood. "You and Sefa are good people, you're hard working and committed, anyone can see that. You have so much to offer a child, but the most important thing you have to offer is love and you and Sefa have more than enough of that to share."

"Wow Princess, an admiration society," Gwaine grinned at Amhar, who was still sucking on the straw in her lemonade, but both Arthur and Guinevere could see he was touched by what they had to say. His grin slipped away slowly when he addressed them again. "If you two got to make the decision, we'd be home and dry, thanks."

Guinevere shook her head. "You'll be fine, Gwaine. They'll accept you, I know it."

Arthur nodded in agreement. "Like I said, they'd be stupid not to."

There was a moment of silence when they were all lost in their own thoughts. Both Guinevere and Arthur couldn't help thinking about their own children. They'd lost Gwydre and they'd suffered the ectopic pregnancy, but they'd never gone through any difficulties with conceiving. They hadn't even really been trying for Gwydre when Guinevere found out she was pregnant, though they hadn't really not been trying either. After losing him, Llacheu had been a terrifying prospect at first, but he'd made it and they'd survived the anxiety of his early months of life and gone on to have Amhar. They'd built a family and neither of them could imagine their lives without the children. The thought of the longing for a child Gwaine and Sefa were living with made Arthur and Guinevere realise how lucky they were.

After a moment, when the silence was broken by Amhar sucking particularly hard to draw up the last drops of her lemonade, Arthur found his voice again. "Is Leon out in the back, how's Mithian?"

Gwaine shook his head. "No, he's not here. Mithian phoned about an hour ago, saying she was feeling a bit uncomfortable. Leon dashed out of here like the Devil himself was after him. I tried to tell him it was probably Braxton Hicks, but..."

"Braxton who?" Arthur asked quizzically.

"Practice contractions," Guinevere supplied, looking at Arthur. "Don't you remember, I never felt them with Gwydre or Llacheu, but madam here," she smiled affectionately at Amhar, "made her presence felt in the last couple of months of the pregnancy, but how do you know about Braxton Hicks?" she turned her attention to Gwaine across the bar, who shrugged nonchalantly.

"I read about it in a book." He winked at Guinevere, his mood swiftly transforming back to his usual upbeat, confident manner.

"You can read?" Arthur quipped dryly.

"Piss off," Gwaine mouthed silently and Arthur grinned.

"Will you get Leon to let us know if everything is all right?" Guinevere asked thoughtfully. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Mithian is what, six weeks or so away now? Still, get him to let us know.

"I will, Princess," Gwaine nodded. "Or at least I will if Leon can tear himself away. Honestly, he's like a cat on hot bricks. He only has to hear the phone and he jumps out of his skin thinking something is wrong with Mithian." Gwaine's tone was light, but there was a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"He's just nervous," Guinevere smiled sympathetically. "He'll be fine when the baby comes."

"Hmmm," Gwaine grunted non-committally. "We'll see."

Eventually Arthur, Guinevere and Amhar said goodbye and left the restaurant to pick up Llacheu from school. "Don't forget," Guinevere reminded Gwaine when he came around from behind the bar to hug Amhar, "get Leon to let us know about Mithian as soon as he has time."

"I won't forget," Gwaine promised, pretending to look solemn, but a spark in his eyes gave him away. "I'll get Leon to phone you, or I'll call myself when I know more." He crossed his heart with a finger and nodded to underline the point.

Satisfied with Gwaine's promise, Guinevere took Amhar by the hand and guided her as they followed Arthur out of the restaurant and to the car. They climbed in and drove through the building traffic as the time approached one of the busiest times of the day on the roads.

"Do you really think Gwaine and Sefa will be accepted to adopt?" Guinevere asked, turning in her seat to look at Arthur while he kept his eyes on the traffic ahead.

Arthur sighed and shrugged. "I hope so, I really do. Gwaine wants a child so badly, not just for himself, for Sefa. He thinks it's his fault he can't give her that, so if they end up being rejected for adoption, I honestly don't know what he'll do."

Guinevere nodded and chewed her lip apprehensively. "Even if they are accepted, adopting an older child probably wouldn't be easy. Imagine it, a child who has been through goodness knows what, being put in a strange place with people they don't know. It's bound to be difficult."

"That's the thing that bothers me," Arthur admitted reluctantly, trying not to sound like he was insulting his friend or giving away his secrets. Then again, he thought, Gwaine knew Guinevere, he loved her, so he probably thought she knew certain things about him by now.

"How do you mean?" Guinevere asked, frowning in concern.

"Well," Arthur sighed heavily. "My childhood wasn't easy, but Gwaine's was worse, much worse. I don't know all of it, he'd already left home and started out on his own by the time I met him, but he always said his parents, especially his mother, hated him and preferred his sister. He spent his childhood being handed around various distant relatives, but he said none of them ever had much time for him, except for an old aunt. He told me years ago he thought she was probably a great aunt in reality because she seemed ancient when he was a child. She died when he was twelve, so he spent the rest of his childhood practically bringing himself up, for all the interest his parents had in him. He left home as soon as he was old enough and he never saw any of his family again."

Guinevere nodded sadly, her heart going out to Gwaine. She'd never asked him about his background in all the years she'd known him, she'd never felt the need. He was Arthur's friend, he was her friend, he loved their children like his own. Somehow, the things she knew about Gwaine, his sense of fun, his cheekiness, his loyalty, had been enough. Now she saw him in a new light. His longing for a child suddenly made perfect sense. "You wonder if his background might make it harder for him to cope with a child who has problems?" she asked thoughtfully.

Arthur shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know. Maybe I'm just worried that he won't be able to let go of the way he was treated for years. Kids who have gone through the care system will already have baggage, Guinevere. My father is prove of the way a bad start in life can stick with a child for years. If Gwaine got it wrong with a child who is already damaged…." He shook his head, unable to come up with the words to express what he meant.

Guinevere listened to what Arthur said and understood how he felt. She latched on to the way Arthur spoke about his father's childhood, thinking to herself that it was strange that he didn't use his own experiences to illustrate what he was trying to say. She didn't point his omission out to him, she didn't want to rake over the emotion of earlier in the day again. "I can see what you mean," she said softly, picking her words carefully, "but doesn't he deserve a chance to get it right, I mean, no one is perfect are they, no matter how good their intentions are, even if a child is their own?"

The truth of Guinevere's words struck Arthur acutely. He thought of his own children, the way he'd let them down again and again over the last year. "You're right, of course you are," he admitted painfully. "Let's face it, I've been nothing to write home about as a father with our two lately, have I?"

"I wasn't talking about you," Guinevere's face fell as she spoke, knowing Arthur still felt guilty for the way he'd behaved over the last year, especially about how insecure the children had become as a result. "I didn't mean to imply anything, I was talking about Gwaine. I just meant that having a child of your own, a child who has a good start in life and has possibilities open to them, doesn't automatically mean that a parent won't make mistakes, that's all. We're all human, after all, so doesn't Gwaine deserve a chance to prove himself?"

"I know what you meant," Arthur said sadly. "It doesn't stop me feeling badly about the way I treated you and the children for months. If I could go back and undo it I would, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Guinevere sighed, reaching over to caress Arthur's cheek tenderly with the back of her hand.

Arthur sighed again and turned his thoughts back to Gwaine, knowing how desperately he longed for a child and how much he blamed himself for his inability to give Sefa the child she wanted. "Of course he deserves a chance," he said simply, knowing Guinevere was right. Gwaine deserved the opportunity to be a father, to give a child a loving home with all the things that entailed. Whatever Arthur's misgivings were about Gwaine's ability to cope with a child who had already been let down, he knew his friend would do his best to show a child all the love they deserved. On that basis alone, if for no other reason, what Arthur had said to Gwaine at the restaurant still rang true, it would be mad if he was refused permission to adopt a child.

Arthur's mind went back a couple of weeks to when Gwaine admitted to him that he didn't know if he could love a child who wasn't his own. Arthur knew his friend well enough to know, that wouldn't be an issue. Thinking back to his own childhood, the years of believing his father didn't love him, Arthur knew Gwaine's love for any child he raised with Sefa would be enough, or at least it would be a good place to start. Taking comfort in the thought, he reached over, took Guinevere's hand and kissed her knuckles reverently, suddenly feeling overwhelmed for the part she had played in knocking down the walls that had stood between him and his father for so long. He saw her look at him in confusion through his peripheral vision, but she said nothing. When she turned to look out of the windscreen again he turned to look at her, taking in the way her eyes were shining and the tender smile on her lips. Turning back to focus on the busy traffic in front of him, Arthur silently thanked God for her and knew he was the luckiest man alive.

Hours later, Llachue and Amhar were both in bed, fast asleep. The last day of term was the next day and the children were both looking forward to their long school holidays. While Arthur and Guinevere helped them to get ready for bed, they'd both chatted excitedly about the things they wanted to do over the next six weeks. Another visit to the zoo seemed to be high on their agenda.

"We'll have to try to take them to places where we don't have to spend a lot of money," Guinevere said thoughtfully, thinking about the money they owed Uther and the mortgage payments they would still need to make in the months ahead.

"We can manage a trip to the zoo, Guinevere," Arthur said decisively. "Things are tight, but we're not destitute. If I can get back to work soon, even part-time, we'll be all right."

"I know," Guinevere spoke softly, not wanting to argue about the subject. "But we will have to be careful, Arthur. If we are going to pay your father back a decent amount and meet the mortgage repayments, we will have to tighten our belts a bit, you know that as well as I do."

Arthur had been sitting up in bed. He turned onto his side now and faced Guinevere as she lay down beside him. The lamps on their bedside tables illuminated the room in a soft glow. "You're determined to be sensible about this, aren't you?"

Guinevere nodded and her smile was warm with affection. "One of us has to be." Her face fell and she was suddenly more serious. "I just don't want you to get stressed like that again, Arthur. We need to tighten our belts, we need to be sensible, or we'll get into a mess we can't get out of. We need to face up to it together and we need to deal with it."

"We will, I promise," Arthur gently pulled Guinevere closer into his arms and kissed her softly.

A comfortable silence fell. Only the familiar sounds of the house at night broke the peace. The boiler as it heated their hot water, the distant hum of the freezer, a clock ticking somewhere in the house, a few other creaks Arthur had never quite got to the bottom of. All the sounds were part of their life, an easy, reliable presence that was strangely reassuring.

The quietness was broken when Guinevere chuckled sleepily

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked, his brows arched.

Guinevere giggled softly and her face cracked into a wide smile. "I was just thinking of you earlier, when Amhar asked how babies get into their mother's tummies."

"Yes, well," Arthur's smile at his wife's humour was lopsided. A flush crept across his skin. "She took me by surprise, that's all. You don't expect your four year old daughter to ask about things like that, do you?"

Guinevere's laugh was a little louder. "The look on your face when she looked at you because she thought people could have babies just from cuddling..." She laughed again, her eyes shining with mirth. "I was just thinking about what you'll be like when she brings boyfriends home. You'll be a nightmare, won't you?"

"I will not!" Arthur exclaimed in a pretence at horror, but by now he was sniggering too. "I'll be perfectly reasonable, you know me." He adopted a look of angelic innocence.

"You'll be reasonable until a boy so much as breathes on her in a way you don't approve of, you mean," Guinevere grinned. Then her face straightened thoughtfully. "Just imagine it, boyfriends turning up, wanting to take her out. It seems like it's years off, but the time will soon fly by."

A hint of a smile lingered in Arthur's eyes. "We could always lock her in her room for a while, just to keep her out of harm's way, until she's older."

"How old?" Guinevere smiled again and shook her head.

Arthur pretended to think it over for a moment. "Oh, nothing excessive, I was thinking until she's thirty five, that's all."He grinned broadly.

Their laughter mingled for a moment until Guinevere curled against Arthur's side and closed her eyes. Within moments the sound of her soft breathing told him she'd fallen asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**I didn't get going with this chapter quite as quickly as I planned. A bit of real life caught up with me, but I'm back now and keen to try to crack on a bit. The end is in sight, though with this I won't attempt to predict how much of the story is left because I got it wrong with Six Weeks To Midnight. That said, I don't think there is far to go, but it depends on whether or not my muse decides to run amok with inspiration, so we will see.**

 **My thanks to those of you who left reviews for the previous chapter. It was nice to write a bit of fun into the proceedings, I felt it offset the drama of the previous chapter quite nicely and I thought it suited Amhar to be the one to ask awkward questions, just as it seemed right that Arthur would be the one to find the whole thing acutely embarrassing while Guinevere got on and handled it.**

 **Now to this chapter and a word of warning that this is definitely a bit M rated, but I hope it's tasteful and that the point is clear.**

The next morning Arthur took the children to school as he planned. They'd both woken early, excited by the prospect of six whole weeks out of the routine of school and lessons. Now, as they walked, Amhar was skipping along, whilst Llacheu, determined to show he was older and more sensible than his younger sister, seemed to be constraining the spring in his step by sheer force of will.

"I'm going to do all my homework at the beginning of the holidays," Llachue said resolutely as he walked with his father when they'd dropped Amhar off for her last day at preschool. She was starting primary school in the autumn term, before turning five the following spring. It didn't seem five minutes since she was born, Arthur mused thoughtfully, when she kissed him goodbye and he hugged her, before she walked into preschool, her face beaming. Now she was suddenly on the verge of starting what she called 'big school', while Llachue would be moving up a year when he went back to school in September. Where had the time gone? The thought sent his mind to all the time he'd spent away from Guinevere and the children over the last year. Whatever Guinevere said to absolve him, he still felt guilty, but the sense of how fast the time flew by reaffirmed what he'd been telling himself for weeks, he was going to change, he was going to do everything possible to spend more time with his family. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, especially with having the mortgage payments to make, but he was determined to at least cut back on the amount of time he spent away.

Turning his attention Llachue, Arthur nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. I used to tell myself I would do that in the summer holiday's, but I always ended up having to do something at the last minute." A wry smile crossed his lips.

Llachue smiled with his father. "Did Grandpa help you with your homework? He still helps me with my numbers sometimes, but he said I'm almost able to do it on my own now. Grandpa has helped me a lot."

Hearing his son speak of Uther's help so effusively made Arthur's chest ache for a moment. It wasn't jealousy, he told himself, knowing, probably for the first time, he was being honest with himself, it was the thought of the relationship he might have had with his father at a young age if things had been different, perhaps if his mother had lived and his father had been happy. It was also the thought of the way his father had opened himself up with the children, willingly spending as much time as possible with them, helping them to do things and teaching them things for no other reason than it gave him pleasure.

Reminded that Llachue had asked a question, Arthur shook his head. "No," he picked his words carefully, trying not to present his father in too bad a light. "Grandpa was working a lot when I was growing up, so a lady helped to look after me and she helped me with my homework." He resolutely pushed away memories of the way his father would check over his work, tutting and frowning over the slightest mistakes. He wasn't like it with Llachue, he reminded himself firmly. His father had changed for the better and the children's lives were richer for it. Not a day went by without the children sharing something their grandfather had taught them, a story about the travelling he'd done since he retired, or something he'd seen he thought the children would find interesting. The children hung on their grandfather's every word, soaking up the knowledge he passed on to them like sponges.

"Is that because Grandma died?" Llachue asked solemnly, clearly trying to sound like he didn't mean to be nosy, but he was interested.

"That's right," Arthur nodded thoughtfully, reminded of how much Llachue took after Guinevere. She had always been able to balance sounding interested, whilst retaining the ability to be sensitive to other people's feelings. "I was very young when your Grandma died, so Grandpa needed a bit of help to look after me because he was working."

Llachue nodded, his eyes still solemn. "We went to baby Gwydre's grave with Mum when you were away. I think Mum would have preferred it if you'd been with us. Mum told us Grandma was buried, like Gwydre. Could we go all go some time, you and Mum and me and Amhar, to see baby Gwydre's grave again, and can we go and see Grandma's?"

Arthur thought over what Llachue was saying, his mind going back over the dark time when he was effectively hiding from his family in Manchester while Guinevere was at home alone with the children, telling them about Gwydre. Guilt for the pain he'd caused Guinevere when she needed him most shot through him. He had to remind himself that they'd moved on, Guinevere had forgiven him, but still he couldn't forget what he'd done to her. He knew very well that in just a few weeks it was the anniversary of Gwydre's death. Perhaps it was time to show her he could be there for her, he thought, making up his mind. "Of course we can," he replied, forcing a weak smile to his lips. "I'll talk to your Mum about it and maybe we'll go during the holidays."

A few minutes later, at the school gates, Arthur hugged Llacheu and said he'd see him later. He watched the boy walk across the playground with a group of his school friends, until he went into the building and disappeared from view.

Turning to walk home, he'd walked the children to school because it was such a beautiful day, Arthur set out his plans for the day ahead in his mind. He was going home to check on Guinevere and phone the bank to make an appointment with the manager to discuss the mortgage and then he was going into work for a couple of hours, just to catch up and see how things were going, but also to apologise to Percival for the way he'd been behaving for months. It was not a conversation Arthur was looking forward to. Percival was nice, quite literally a gentle man, his huge build contrasting sharply with his easy-going manner, but Arthur knew he'd tested the man's patience to the limit for months. It would serve him right if Percival told him where to stick his apologies and walked out. He tried to convince himself that Percival could have done that before if he'd felt inclined, he could quite easily have thrown in the towel and walked out of Pendragon Homes for good, but he'd stayed and didn't that mean something? What Arthur couldn't quite shut out was a voice in his head that reminded him Percival had probably been kept too busy for months to even consider leaving Pendragon Homes in the lurch, but if he had an opening now, if he thought getting out was an option, would he go, or would he accept an apology and move on? Arthur knew very well, there was only one way to find out.

Walking back in through his front door some time later, Arthur smiled at the light in Guinevere's eyes when she walked down the last few stairs towards him. He'd left her in bed when he took the children to school, half expecting to find her up and about when he got back, so he was surprised to see her wrapped in a thin summer dressing gown, while the hair that hung down her back in a mass of curls seemed to be damp. She smiled brightly at him in greeting and walked towards him when she reached the bottom of the stairs, standing on tip-toe to peck him softly on the lips. She went to step back when she'd kissed him, but Arthur suddenly had other ideas. All of a sudden, he knew he wanted her. Forgetting his thoughts of Percival or any of the plans he had for the day, he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer still when he noticed she didn't flinch away from being held tightly as she'd done several times since her surgery. He kissed her again, longer this time, savouring every sensation she provoked when she was in his arms. He inhaled her fresh scent, realising that she must have had a shower and washed her hair while he was taking the children to school.

Guinevere's hands slipped beneath the light summer suit Arthur was wearing and rested against his chest. She felt his heartbeat racing against her left hand and her lips curved upwards into a smile of satisfaction against his. She barely heard the moan Arthur released from the back of his throat when she allowed her hands to slide up from his chest over his jacket, but she felt it resonating through her body, her skin breaking out into goosebumps in response to his reaction to her. She deepened the kiss, caressing his lips and tongue with her own while her hands gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten and twitch in response to her touch, until her hands moved on to settle around the back of his neck, where the fingers of both hands locked together and she strained to get closer to him, relishing the way his body was responding to her nearness for the first time in months. She sighed contentedly when she felt Arthur's arms tighten around her and he picked her up, easily supporting her weight when she wrapped her legs around his waist. Without a word, breaking the kiss to give them both a moment to breath, he gazed into the dazzling light in her eyes and carried her up the stairs towards their bedroom.

Once they were in their room, Arthur leaned against the door to close it, still holding Guinevere tightly against him. Secluded in their private world, he kissed her again while he carried her over to their open bed and lowered her down slowly to the pillows, his body following her of its own accord, though he remained on his feet for now, only allowing his upper body to hover in her space for a while as he leaned towards her. In the silence of their room he heard her breathing change when his lips left hers to start a journey that began behind her ear and continued along the smooth contours of her neck to the hollow of her throat. Though she gasped at the feeling of Arthur's lips against the sensitive skin of her throat, her hands were busy, pushing his jacket off his shoulders until it slid off him and landed on the bedroom floor with a soft thud. Then, with practised hands, she unwrapped the neat tie he'd paid close attention to when he was dressing a couple of hours before. When the tie was open and hung loosely around his neck, she pulled it away, delighting in the way Arthur shivered at the sensation of the tie sliding away from the thin cotton of his shirt, the movement sending sparks of electricity to his nerve endings. She felt his shivering increase when she wrapped her fingers around the top button of his shirt and opened it swiftly, her eyes shining at the befuddled expression on Arthur's face when he realised she'd managed to take control.

Caught in Guinevere's thrall, Arthur didn't care that he was putty in her hands. He gazed at her reverently while her hands moved quickly down the line of buttons on his shirt, opening it until it hung loosely from his muscular frame, only his buttoned cuffs and his trouser belt preventing her from pushing it off his body to join his jacket on the floor. Before he could summon the will to move to rectify the situation, Guinevere took Arthur's hands in hers, popping open the buttons on his cuffs. Then, with an unmistakeable gleam in her eyes, she sat up on the side of the bed, turning to face him, watching the effect she'd already had on him when he stood upright on legs that barely seemed to be taking his weight. Feeling a glow of satisfaction, she watched him swallow hard in anticipation of what she was going to do next. Deliberately stretching out the moment, she paused, taking a minute to stare into the fire in his eyes.

By the time Guinevere raised her hands to his belt buckle, Arthur was trembling and fighting an internal battle to keep his hands to himself. When she opened the belt and pulled it from around his waist, throwing it surprisingly gracefully in the circumstances he thought, his head fell back, his eyes clamped shut and he lost the ability to think at all. Surrendering to her completely, he willingly gave up on the fight he'd been having with himself. His hands blindly gripped Guinevere's shoulders as he stood before her, his body shaking all the way to his fingertips. When Guinevere's fingers reached for his trouser zip, sliding it down slowly over the arousal that was straining for release against the confines of his underwear, he heard himself whimper, but he was too far gone to feel any embarrassment. Weak with desire, he thought his legs would give way altogether and he swayed for a moment, until he felt a movement. His hands slid from Guinevere's shoulders and even though his eyes were still tightly closed and his head was thrown back, he knew she was standing. He stood back a little on his shaking legs to give her space and then he turned his face to her and slowly opened his eyes.

Gazing into the heated amber pools in front of him, sinking into the desire in her eyes, Arthur didn't see his trousers fall to the floor, but he felt the movement as if it was a breath against his skin. His heart pounded in his ears as he gathered his scrambled thoughts and dragged his eyes off Guinevere just long enough to clumsily divest himself of his shoes and socks and the trousers that had fallen from him and pooled in a heap around his ankles. When that was done and most of his clothes lay scattered over the bedroom floor, Arthur edged closer to Guinevere and took her back into his arms. Standing practically naked in front of her apart from his underwear, he could feel her form through the thin fabric of her dressing gown. For the first time in far too long, he let his hands begin to familiarise themselves again with her curves, caressing her shoulders, her waist, her shapely, feminine hips. His hands only stilled when he reached for the belt on her dressing gown and she stopped him by placing her hands over his. Arthur sensed something had changed when her eyes lowered to their hands at her waist.

"We're not supposed to be doing this for another month," Guinevere's voice trembled as she spoke. Even though Arthur couldn't see her face, he knew she was fighting back tears, though he couldn't tell if she was really distressed or if it was the emotion of what had happened between them in the last few minutes. He knew when her voice cracked when she spoke again and he felt her shuddering against him. "But I was in the shower while you were out and I was thinking about how much I've missed us being like this, not just making love, but being close and needing each other and I wanted...But now you'll think I've teased and..."

Heaving a sigh, Arthur shook his head. Taking her face in his hands gently, he raised it so Guinevere had to look him in the eyes. She flushed and tried to avoid his gaze, but he held on to her and never let his eyes drift from hers. "Now look," he spoke, his voice soft but decisive, "we don't have to do anything, not today, not tomorrow, not in a month, not until you are ready..."

"But I _do_ want to," Guinevere admitted urgently. "I want to, but I probably shouldn't until I've had my six week check and that's still a month away."

Arthur nodded slowly, his mind grasping at an idea. "Well then," a hint of a smile crossed his lips. "Why don't we go back a few years, before the children were born, before we were married. I know we didn't go all the way, but we did have our moments, remember?" The small smile on Arthur's lips developed into a warm grin.

In spite of herself, Guinevere's eyes lit up and she laughed softly. "I don't quite recall being in this position before we were married. I think you must be confusing me with someone you've forgotten to tell me about."

Guinevere's tone told Arthur she was making fun of him and he grinned even wider. "You know very well, there is no one I've forgotten to tell you about." His face suddenly straightened and he gazed at her, his eyes heavy with meaning. "There's you, Guinevere, there has only ever been you."

"I know," Guinevere nodded solemnly, her voice shaking tearfully again. "I know."

Still holding her face in his hands, Arthur lowered his lips to Guinevere's and kissed her softly, innocently, like it was the first time all over again, except that the first time he kissed her he wasn't standing practically naked in front of her, he was fully clothed with her on the doorstep of her family home while her father was inside waiting for her to arrive home safely from an evening out with her friends at the local pub. He smiled now when he broke the kiss slowly and Guinevere reached towards him, her head slightly turned up, her eyes closed. Now _that_ was like the first time he kissed her, he mused thoughtfully, resisting the urge to kiss her again with nothing but willpower, a feeling that almost crumbled to dust at his feet when Guinevere's eyes opened and she gazed at him with open longing.

"So," Arthur cleared his throat animatedly. "If you want to, we could just forget this. I could get dressed again and we could go downstairs and I'll make you a cup of tea," he took his hands away from her face and winked at her cheekily. She giggled, though there was still a suggestion of tears in the sound. "Or," his voice dropped until it was lower than usual and his hands went back slowly to the tie on her dressing gown. "You could let me untie that dressing gown and we could have one of those special cuddles you told Amhar about."

"Except for the making a baby bit?" Guinevere asked, her eyes shining with amusement

"Except for the making a baby bit," Arthur agreed, nodding.

Guinevere's hands moved to hover over Arthur's on the tie of her dressing gown. She hesitated, her face fell and she bit her lip anxiously. "You'll see my scar, it's still not very nice."

"Does it hurt?" Arthur asked, worry in his voice.

Guinevere shook her head. "No, not any more."

Arthur nodded, relieved, and then another thought occurred to him. "Would it hurt if I touched it?"

Guinevere swallowed hard and shook her head. "I don't think so, not now, but it's there, Arthur. If I take this dressing gown off, my scar will be there and you will see it."

"Now look," Arthur didn't raise his voice, but his tone was serious. "I thought we'd had this out at the hospital. I don't care about your scar, it won't impact on how much I want you, it couldn't. The only reason I've hung back from you for months is because I was a stupid, blind coward who was too frightened to admit the mess I'd got us in to. It had nothing to do with not wanting you. I don't care about a scar, Guinevere, I swear."

"But I care!" Guinevere cried desperately, trying to explain how she felt. "It's flatter than it was, but it's still a red line across my bikini line that wasn't there before, like someone has got a red pen and drawn a great big stripe across me and it's horrible!"

"If you didn't have that 'stripe' as you call it," Arthur sighed, trying not to get frustrated. He wanted to comfort her, but he felt like he didn't have a clue what he was doing and he hated it. "If you hadn't got it, you would be dead, Guinevere. You would be dead, our children wouldn't have a mother and I….I'd be spending the rest of my life alone," he shook with the intensity of his feelings. He had to take a breath before going on. "That scar means you're still here, my love," his voice softened now as he collected his thoughts. "It means you survived. You're a survivor Guinevere, your scar proves it and you should be proud of it, proud of yourself."

"You would say that," a hint of a smile suddenly reappeared on Guinevere's lips. "I'm naked under this dressing gown, you do know that?"

Arthur eyed Guinevere up and down slowly, so slowly she actually blushed crimson at his passion-filled gaze studying her so closely. "I was rather hoping you were," he leered mischievously. "But now you've confirmed it…."

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "You are incorrigible, Pendragon!" Still, she laughed at him and Arthur suddenly sensed he was getting somewhere.

"I'd rather be in you," he ignored the way Guinevere gasped at his cheekiness, "but I'm quite happy to wait for you. We both know it'll be worth it."

Guinevere glared at him in a way that wasn't at all convincing. "Sure of yourself, aren't you, Pendragon? Anyone else would call that arrogance."

Arthur shook his head, any pretence of humour dying in his eyes. "No, Guinevere," he caressed the syllables of her name with aching tenderness. "I'm sure of _you_. _You_ will be worth the wait, Guinevere, you always have been. How could you not be, you're bloody perfect, scar and all."

Guinevere shook her head in disbelief. "You're still determined to put me on a pedestal, aren't you? But I'm not perfect, Arthur, I never was, and now, with the scar, I..."

"You _are_ perfect," Arthur stated resolutely, meaning every word. "You're clever and kind, you're funny and strong and you are beautiful, Guinevere. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known and I love you." He watched the words he was saying, the words he felt all the way to his bones, sink into Guinevere's mind. She bowed her head slightly and a shy smile curved her lips. He sensed that she wanted to believe him, but she was struggling with her insecurities, the feelings he'd instilled in her when he spent months just taking from her when she offered herself to him because he'd convinced himself that if he let her get close, if he opened himself up to her in the way he had before, he would risk losing her when she found out about the mess they were in. His selfishness over the last year, his thoughtless actions, stood between them now, all the times she'd given herself to him freely over the last year and he'd done nothing but take from her and then he'd cast her aside as if she meant nothing to him, all because he'd been too frightened to be honest with her.

Gathering himself, Arthur took another deep breath before going on. "I met someone when I was in Manchester, a woman. I stayed in a hotel at first, but when money got tight I moved to a bed and breakfast. I got to know the woman who ran the place. She was single, a widow. She ran the place all on her own."

"Oh?" Arthur watched Guinevere raise her head, her brows arching. He could see the questions in her eyes. He knew he was leading her on, provoking a reaction from her, but he couldn't think of another way to explain how he felt.

Arthur nodded. "Mmmm," he tried to sound nonchalant. "I talked to her quite a bit while I was there. She was nice, easy to talk to."

"Good." The word came out of Guinevere's mouth, but it was obvious she felt no pleasure at what Arthur was saying and she frowned in bewilderment. It was clear from her puzzled expression that she had no idea where he was leading her. Confusion fought with disbelief in her gaze. It was as if she couldn't take in what she was hearing, almost as if she was arguing with herself to contradict what her own ears were telling her. It was, he admitted to himself, exactly what he intended. As much as he hated the thought of causing her any more pain than he had over the last year, he knew he needed to say things to her and she needed to hear what he had to say.

"On my last day there," Arthur sighed when he noted the way Guinevere was waiting for what he had to say with baited breath, "we got talking about our families. She told me she'd never had children. I told her about Llacheu and Amhar. I told her about Gwydre and..." he took another steadying breath. "I told her about you, Guinevere. I told her how much I love the children. I told her, the children are my world, but you...you're..." he let the words hang in the air for a moment.

Guinevere's eyes widened in the silence between them. "I'm what, Arthur?" she almost demanded, when she couldn't stand the silence any longer. Her voice sounded tight, as if she was struggling to speak through something in the back of her throat.

Arthur smiled tenderly, a reaction Guinevere didn't expect. She went on frowning quizzically, her face a mask of confusion, while he could see a hint of anger simmering beneath the surface. "I couldn't think what to say at first," he admitted, shaking his head. "It was the same when I was talking to John all those years ago in Wales. He asked me to put how I feel about you into words. At first I couldn't do it, I had no idea how to explain it. In Manchester I told that woman that I love you more than anything else in the world. Like I said, I told her, the children are my world, but you, you're...and then she said something and I knew she was right. In just a few words she captured what you are to me, Guinevere, what you have always been to me."

Guinevere was suddenly staring at Arthur intently, hanging on every word he uttered. When he stopped speaking she blinked as if to stir herself from the sound of his voice. "What did she say?" she asked, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. Arthur saw the way the confusion in her eyes had slipped away. She clearly still had no idea what was coming next, but the disbelief in her eyes, the hint of anger he'd sensed, had gone, replaced by something that almost broke his heart because it was so painfully hopeful.

He smiled in spite of the lump he could feel in the back of his throat when he looked at the expression on Guinevere's face. Edging closer to her, Arthur slipped his hands away from hers over the tie of her dressing gown. Her own hands fell to her sides and her head tilted up to look him in the eyes, waiting for him to speak.

Unable to be so close and not touch her, Arthur reached out and took Guinevere's face in his hands again. He cradled her gently and then he lowered his lips to hers. She seemed too stunned to respond at first and stood there while he kissed her. Then she was kissing him back instinctively, until he broke the kiss abruptly. "She said 'she's the universe'" he said huskily, tasting Guinevere on his lips as he spoke.

It took a moment for Guinevere to process what Arthur was saying. She stared at him blankly until her thoughts came together. When what he said sank in, she reached for him and dragged his lips to hers, kissing him wildly. As she kissed him she felt his hands slip away from her face and slide around her body, holding her tightly against him. She felt his hands on her back, felt the heat of him through the thin fabric of her dressing gown and she responded by running her hands down his back slowly, taking in each bump his vertebrae created from the back of his neck to the elastic that supported his underwear, each ripple of muscle that responded to her caress. She shivered when he moaned in the back of his throat, hauling her against him tighter until there was no space between them. She felt his arousal, felt him hardening against her. Feeling bold, she wrapped herself around him closer, allowing her body to tease the evidence of his desire for her until he threw his head back and his whole body shuddered almost violently. His eyes had clamped shut when Guinevere dragged his lips to hers. Now they flew open as he stood in her arms and panted in her ear, his warm breath sending rivulets of sensation flowing through her.

"It's the truth, Guinevere," Arthur's voice was a breathless whisper now. "You're everything to me, you always have been. I know I've hurt you, I know I've let you down, but you're my whole life, Guinevere. You make everything else in my life make sense, you give me a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Everything I am, everything I do, is because of you, Guinevere. Without you there would be nothing. You're the universe to me, you always have been, you always will be, as long as I draw breath."

"Arthur," Guinevere sighed tearfully, holding him as tightly as she could.

The two stood in each other's arms, only the sound of their breathing disturbing the silence of the room. Minutes passed before Guinevere edged slowly out of Arthur's arms. He moved to pull her against him again, but she shook her head and placed her fingers over his lips, silencing anything he might say. When she knew he wasn't going to speak she rewarded him with a quick kiss, brushing his lips softly with hers. Then, gathering her courage, she looked him in the eyes while her hands moved to the tie on her dressing gown. Caught in the spell Arthur's intense gaze created, branded by the heat in his eyes, she opened the tie on the dressing gown and let it fall off her shoulders to the floor.

"Guinevere," Arthur whispered breathlessly, her name a prayer on his lips. "You…." He couldn't go on, couldn't find the words to describe what he was feeling as she stood in front of him, looking back at him bravely, her head held high.

"Just love me, Arthur," Guinevere wrapped her arms around his neck as she spoke, pressing her naked body against him. "We can't do everything yet, but will you love me?"

Arthur swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly. He felt like he was slightly outside of himself. It was as if nothing else existed in that moment but him and this beautiful woman who knew him as no one else did. She had seen his triumphs and his disasters. She had seen his successes and his failures. She had seen the best and the worst of him, but she'd loved him anyway. How did he get so lucky, he asked himself, wrapping his arms around her, wallowing in the sensation of her caramel skin surrounding him. He inhaled her scent deeply, ran his fingers through the damp curls of her hair.

"I should have tied my hair up when I got out of the shower," Guinevere nuzzled Arthur's neck as she spoke, smiling when she felt his fingers catching in her dark curls and heard his breath hitch as she grazed his skin with her lips and teeth. "If it dries too much before I can comb it, I won't be able to do a thing with it for the rest of the day and it'll be your fault."

"I'm not sorry," Arthur murmured, his voice low, Guinevere's touch already making his senses spin. She was moving up his neck to his ear now, where she nibbled the flesh of his earlobe and breathed softly into the shell, giggling at him when he shuddered.

"Do you want me to look like a scarecrow?" Guinevere demanded, taking her lips from his skin, leaving him reeling.

Denied the pleasure of Guinevere's caresses so abruptly and goaded by her teasing tone, Arthur hauled her against him and kissed her without restraint. He tore himself away from her lips after a moment, a thrill of pride rushing through him when she leaned against him to stay upright. "I want you to stop talking, woman," he whispered in her ear, a smug smile crossing his lips when her eyes closed and she shivered, leaning into him further. "I'm trying to concentrate here, how can you still be talking?"

"Swine," Guinevere said, but her eyes were dancing and there was no heat in her tone.

"But you love me really," Arthur sniggered, enjoying the easy banter between them. Things hadn't been like that between them for far too long, he thought, trailing his fingers down her sides while he began to steer her towards the bed.

"I do," Guinevere conceded playfully, moving towards the bed, while Arthur followed her. "For my sins, I do."

"There's only one sinner here," Arthur guided Guinevere towards the pillows and moved to join her, "and it isn't you, my love." His eyes were still bright with humour, but his voice was deadly serious.

"Pedestal, Arthur," Guinevere shook her head at him in mock exasperation.

"The truth, Guinevere," Arthur sighed, shrugging his shoulders at her attempt to stop him raising her higher than she thought she deserved. He was hovering over her in the bed now and leaned closer to her. "Now, are you going to kiss me again, or what?"

Guinevere pretended to think it over for a moment and then she shrugged idly, a wicked gleam sparkling in her eyes. "Well, seeing as you don't want me to talk, I suppose that could be arranged."

"Don't overwhelm me with your enthusias'…Mmmm, Guinevere," Arthur's flow of words was cut off when Guinevere slammed her lips to his. He practically purred her name, the fog her kiss created in his mind enough to distract him for a moment, just enough for her to manoeuvre him so that he was pinned beneath her when she sat up and straddled him.

"I've got you at my mercy now." Her face split in a wide smile, Guinevere gazed down into Arthur's love-struck eyes, while her hands began to move over him. Knowing him as she did, she knew exactly where and how to touch him to reduce him to a quivering puddle of need. She leaned towards him, kissing a path from his lips to his chest. She kissed the strong muscles of his chest, ran her fingers through his chest hair, drawing a deep sigh of pleasure from him that struck her to the core. He hadn't responded to her like this for months, she thought, needing more of it, more of him. She continued to trail her fingers and lips over him, grazing him with her teeth and tongue. She toyed with his nipples, running her fingers over them gently, around and around, until they rose to tips and goosebumps broke out on Arthur's pale skin. He moaned in the back of his throat, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through his whole body, when Guinevere flattened the throbbing tips of his nipples with her tongue, grazed them gently, almost tenderly, with her teeth and then started again, letting her fingers trail around the puckered pink flesh.

By the time Guinevere moved on, Arthur was trembling beneath her. She looked up at him, his eyes tightly closed, his expression a picture of bliss, when she kissed a delicate path around his navel. She watched the muscles of his abdomen twitch in response to her touch, watched his chest rise and fall rapidly when his breathing speeded up in anticipation of whatever she was going to do next. He didn't have to wait very long. Her own pulse thumping so hard she thought her heart would jump out of her chest, Guinevere raised a shaking hand and gently caressed the evidence of Arthur's obvious arousal, still covered by his underwear.

His eyes flying open, Arthur started, arching automatically into the touch. "I didn't...I never..." He shook his head, unable to think or speak.

"Shhh," Guinevere soothed, still stroking him with one hand while she began to release him from his underwear with the other. "I want to do this Arthur, let me do this for you." She knew him well enough to know what he was trying to say. He didn't expect her to do this for him, it wasn't what he intended when this started. She gifted him with a loving smile, her hand continuing to stroke him, while her heart wallowed in the rapture written all over him when he responded to her.

Guinevere gazed so lovingly at Arthur, he was powerless to stop her even if he wanted to, but as she continued to caress him, her touch gentle one moment and then firmer the next as her hand loved him, he knew he didn't want to stop her. He nodded slowly, wondering if he was being selfish again, letting her pleasure him while he lay there and let her do it, but when she gifted him with another smile when the hand she wasn't using to touch him finally managed to free him from his underwear, he suddenly realised that she was taking as much pleasure from touching him as he took from her touch. All that time when he'd given her nothing, he thought, fighting to think clearly when Guinevere wrapped her hand around him and stroked his hardness from base to tip, it wasn't that Guinevere resented giving him pleasure; it was the way he never responded to her at all, never indicated she was getting it right for him, never made a sound to show his enjoyment, never did anything beyond the basic mechanics, never expressed his love for her while she attempted to shower him with affection in an attempt to draw him back to her, that made her feel so used and dirty. It was, he knew now as never before, a sign to her that he'd pulled away from her emotionally as well as physically in those dark days when he was sinking into despair.

Feeling like he'd spent months sleepwalking without realising it, Arthur rolled over, holding Guinevere against him. She looked up at him, puzzled, and he kissed the expression on her face away until she sank into the pillows beneath her and waited for him.

"I never stopped loving you, Guinevere," Arthur gazed into her warm amber eyes. "I never stopped loving you and I never stopped wanting you, not even for a moment."

"I know that," she tried to reassure him quickly. "You've told me and I believe you, truly."

Arthur shook his head and went on, self-loathing stirring inside him when thought back to how he'd behaved towards her when she tried to make love to him. "I know we've talked about it and you know how sorry I am for hurting you, but it's taken this, today, to make me realise how much I hurt you when I pulled away from you when we did this, how dirty I made you feel, how I used you for my own ends and gave you nothing in return."

"Look," Guinevere ran a gentle hand across Arthur's cheek, her fingers caressing the light stubble there. "It's over now, you've apologised for hurting me and it doesn't matter any more."

"It matters to me," Arthur said, shaking his head resolutely, determined to say what he had to say. "I just want you to know, I get it now. When I didn't respond to you as I had before, when I shut you out when you made love to me, it didn't occur to me how much I was hurting you. I didn't understand then that part of your pleasure when we make love is my responses to you, the way I react, the words I use, the way I show you that you're giving me pleasure."

Guinevere nodded, turning her head to avoid looking at Arthur's face. "You'd always been so open, Arthur," she found her voice reluctantly, uncertain of stoking the memories of the past again. "Right from the start you showed me how you felt so clearly, even if you'd never said it I would have known in here," she raised a hand to her chest, over her heart. "When we made love you were always telling me you loved me and you never hid anything, what you liked, how I made you feel and it made me so happy, not just that you gave me so much when you loved me, but that you gave me so much when you let me love you."

Guinevere's face clouded now as she spoke and she tried to resist Arthur when he turned her face to look into his eyes again, but he rolled on to his side, rolling her with him so that they lay face to face. Unwilling to turn her back on him to avoid looking at him, knowing that would seem like she was shutting him out, she went on. "When you shut me out, when you wouldn't respond to me when I touched you, when you wouldn't look at me or touch me, when you never even said you loved me when I made love to you, it made me feel like I was asking something of you I had no right to, Arthur. You made me, your own wife, feel dirty, worthless, like everything we'd been to each other for so long meant nothing to you any more."

By now both Guinevere and Arthur were weeping. Gathering her tightly in his arms, he cradled her as close as he could, running a loving hand through the thick curls of her hair. "I'm so stupid," he heaved a shaking sigh. "If I'd just stopped to think for a moment, if I'd realised how important it was to you to know what you do for me means something, I would have…."

"Well, isn't it the same for you?" Guinevere asked, interrupting him. She'd been leaning against his chest, but now she looked up into his eyes. "When we make love, isn't that part of it, for you, knowing that you are giving me pleasure? Doesn't the thought of that add to your enjoyment?"

Without hesitation, Arthur nodded. "Of course it does. When we make love, knowing I'm pleasing you, knowing you are taking pleasure in me, in something I'm doing, makes it special and adds to my pleasure in you, of course it does, because I love you so much and I want to make you happy."

He looked deeply into her eyes, allowed himself to fall into the loving gaze she gifted him with when he expressed himself. "I might have tried to shut you out of my body Guinevere, I might have stopped expressing it when we made love and I'm sorry for how I made you feel, but I never shut you out of my heart. I could never do that, not to you, I love you too much, I always have, I always will."

"I know," Guinevere nodded, and Arthur saw the truth of her words in her eyes. Before he could move to pull her into his arms he found himself on his back again, she was hovering over him, fire in her eyes. "Now then, my love, where were we?" Then, before he could speak, she moved and both of her hands rediscovered _exactly_ where she'd been a moment before and she took him somewhere he hadn't gone to for a long time, not so freely, so without any sort of reserve.

"Guinevere!" Arthur cried out, her touch sending sparks to his nerve endings. His whole body arched into the touch when she led him to his climax and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Even his toes curled in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. He let the feeling consume him, gave himself up to it, knowing Guinevere would be on the other side of it, waiting for him, just as she always had been.

When he could think a little more clearly, when he could see a bit straighter and when his heart rate had begun to settle to something like a normal level, Guinevere kissed him, the look in her eyes adoring every inch of him right down to his bones. "Did you like that?" she asked, her eyes dancing with his.

"I did," he nodded breathlessly, while he still tried to recover from the bliss-filled, dazzling sensations she'd wrought in him. "I really, really did," he sighed, knowing he must look dazed and ridiculous and not caring one bit because Guinevere was there and she loved him.

"So did I," she beamed with pleasure. "Now," the look in her eyes turned wicked. "What else can I do?"


	23. Chapter 23

**My thanks to those of you who wrote reviews for the previous chapter. As always, I do appreciate it. It wasn't an easy chapter to write because, clearly, it was a love scene without the ultimate goal being sex, but somehow it felt like the right time to really open Arthur's eyes to the way he made Guinevere feel for a long while, whilst also showing that they have moved on and they are at a stage again where they can tease and banter easily. I also wanted to show that though my version of Arthur and Guinevere waited to have sex before they were married, it doesn't necessarily mean they were complete novices when it comes to physical intimacy, albeit they hadn't gone quite as far as they went in chapter 22. I hope the chapter worked as I intended.**

 **Now to move on. I should point out that I couldn't resist the introduction of a character in this chapter as well as a mention of a really obvious character.**

"You know, the funny thing is," Arthur said, sitting on the side of the bed some time later in his buttoned shirt and underwear, sliding one of his legs into his trousers as he spoke. "I only came home to check on you and phone the bank to make an appointment for next week. I expected to be in the office now grovelling to Percival." He slid the other leg into his trousers and stood to do them up, feeling Guinevere's eyes on him as he moved. When his trousers were on, he looked at the watch on his wrist, noting it wasn't quite as late as he'd imagined, not that he really cared, he thought, his mind going back over the last hour or so, the memories sending a thrill of pleasure down his spine. He could still taste Guinevere's kisses, feel her soft skin beneath his hands and lips. He could still smell the scent of her arousal when her pleasure peaked, he could see the way her eyes dazzled him when she reached her climax, holding on to him as tightly as she could while her body arched into his and she trembled against him. He could still hear the way she gasped in surprise when he traced the thin line of the scar on her bikini line with his lips. He could hear her crying out her pleasure as he loved her, his name a strangled cry on her lips that reverberated through him to the depths of his soul. As they lay in the after-glow, their bodies entwined, she whispered her love for him endlessly, the words coming out in a gentle sigh while her hands moved over him tenderly, stroking his hair, his cheek, her fingers toying with his chest hair, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to stop touching him yet, or, he thought ruefully, as if she was trying to convince herself he was still there and wasn't about to run off as he'd done for months. He promised himself he would prove to her that he would never run off again, or, if he had to go away, he would do everything he could to get back to her and the children as soon as possible and he would never take their love for granted again.

"Sorry for delaying you," Guinevere said, sitting behind him on the bed, still naked, the white cotton sheet covering her as she hugged her bent knees to herself.

Arthur heard the unrepentant sound of her voice, the smile in her tone. Almost dressed now, apart from his shoes and the tie and jacket he'd just picked up from the bedroom floor, he turned to her and grinned lovingly. "I'm not even the slightest bit sorry, that was the best start to the day for ages."

The smile gracing Guinevere's lips widened and her eyes glowed. "It was nice to be so close again, Arthur," her smile slipped away slowly. "I...I missed you even when you were here for a while."

By now Arthur's tie and jacket were back on and he sat down on the side of the bed again. Turning to Guinevere, he took one of her hands and dropped a kiss into her palm. The glow in her eyes, which had slipped away just a moment before, ignited again and he felt her shiver at the simple touch. "I know and I'm sorry," he heaved a sigh. "I won't let you down again, Guinevere," he spoke with conviction. "I mean it, I'll do everything I can to spend as much time as I can with you and the children and I won't shut you out again. I love you, Guinevere." He leaned forward and kissed her softly, allowing his lips to linger for a moment.

Guinevere nodded and gently caressed his cheek until he reluctantly sat up straight again, knowing he needed to get moving if he was to get anything done that day. "I love you, Arthur," she sighed, not echoing the words for the sake of it, but saying it back to him to show him she meant it. The way he smiled when he stood to slip his feet back into his shoes told her he understood.

"So, are you still planning on phoning the bank before you go out to work?" Guinevere asked, stretching as she spoke in a way that made the sheet around her fall for a moment, bringing another grin to Arthur's lips.

"Well," he smirked playfully and she rolled her eyes at him and yanked at the sheet, covering herself from his view. "If you're going to distract me like that, maybe I won't go to work today after all."

Guinevere rolled her eyes again, but Arthur could see she was holding back a smile. She reached over to her bedside table and picked up the phone, pulling on it slightly to free the thin cable running from the land-line phone and then she placed it down between them. "Make the call, Arthur," she said, pretending to sound stern, securing the sheet around herself with her arms.

"I love it when you tell me what to do," Arthur grinned, reaching for the phone. He leaned forward quickly, stealing another swift kiss from Guinevere's lips. He held back a smile when the stern expression in Guinevere's eyes transformed to something wistful until he picked up the phone and dialled the number for the bank.

Guinevere relaxed into the pillows while she listened to Arthur making the call. She heard him explain to someone at the bank that they needed an appointment with the manager as soon as possible, but preferably on the Wednesday of the following week so that it would fit in with their childcare arrangements. She heard him agree and saw him nod to something that was suggested to him and then he smiled encouragingly at her. Within a few minutes he was putting the phone's receiver down and Guinevere picked up the phone and returned it to her bedside table.

"All done," Arthur said, smiling again. "We have an appointment with the bank manager to discuss the mortgage next Wednesday morning." His smile slipped away and he looked more serious. "I just hope he's in a good mood that day and I can talk him into making some changes with the mortgage. Even if he does agree," a warning lingered in Arthur's sapphire eyes, "it won't be easy for a while. I'll have to meet the mortgage payments regularly and I'll have to start making some impression on what I owe my father too."

" _We_ will get through it, Arthur," Guinevere said, looking into his eyes with certainty. "In a month or so, as soon as I can drive, I'll go back to work. That'll help a bit, won't it?"

Arthur sighed and took Guinevere's hand. "I don't want you rushing back to work, not after what you've been through. I got us into the mess, it's up to me to get us out of it."

Guinevere gripped Arthur's hand, gently caressing his knuckles, but when she spoke her voice was firm. "I'm practically well again, I feel a lot better already. If it wasn't for not being able to drive yet, I could go back to work now, so you don't need to worry." When Arthur opened his mouth to argue, Guinevere shook her head at him. "I mean it, I'm fine Arthur, really. As soon as I can drive I'm going back to work. I won't let you carry the burden of the mortgage and the bills alone, not any more. We're either a partnership or we're not, so as soon as Gaius clears me to drive in a few weeks, I'll go back to work. With you working regularly in the office as well, it'll help. We won't clear ourselves of everything straight away, I know that, but it'll be a start."

"All right," Arthur conceded reluctantly, knowing that deep down he wanted to argue, not just because he was a proud man who felt it was his place to provide for his family, but because seeing Guinevere looking so unwell and vulnerable when she was recovering from the ectopic pregnancy surgery had frightened the life out of him. He knew he would never forget Mr. Louden's words, that if she hadn't got to the hospital when she did, she would have died. Even now, when she was sitting beside him on their bed, looking so full of life, the thought made his blood run cold. "Just promise me one thing," he said, swallowing hard and reminding himself forcefully that Guinevere was all right, she was alive and likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future. She would live forever if he had any say in it, he told himself, unable to completely stamp out the feeling of dread he felt at the thought of ever having to live without her.

"Anything," Guinevere agreed, seeing the worry in Arthur's eyes.

"Just promise me you won't overdo it," he replied, unable to hide the plea in his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly when he'd spoken. "I just don't want you to make yourself ill again because of my mess, that's all, so just promise me you'll go easy on yourself, please."

Guinevere nodded. "It's _our_ mess," she said decisively, "but I promise you, I won't overdo it. Hunith will probably make me go on light duties for a while anyway, so you'll have nothing to worry about."

"Mmmm," Arthur said, the tone non-committal. "That's easy for you to say." The memory of leaving Guinevere alone when she must have been in awful pain and the thought of how ill she looked when he first saw her in the hospital still lingered in his mind. It wouldn't go away in a hurry, he thought, sensing that was probably a good thing. The guilt he still felt would serve as a reminder not to fail her again.

"Now look," Guinevere said, sounding stern for real this time when she saw the look in Arthur's eyes. "I'm fine, I'm really much better. I don't want you spending all your time worrying about me, I mean it, Arthur."

"I just wish I'd been here for you," he admitted, bowing his head. "Perhaps, if I'd been here, you wouldn't have been so ill in the first place. If anything had happened to you and I hadn't been here, I..." He broke off, unable to say any more.

The pain in Arthur's eyes drove Guinevere to reach for him. He went into her arms gladly and held her tightly against him, inhaling her comforting scent. "I'm fine, Arthur," she reassured him gently, stroking the short hair at the back of his neck while she held him close. "In a few weeks Gaius will clear me for work and I'll go back into light duties, sitting with people who need a bit of company, preparing the odd meal, that sort of thing. Hunith won't let me overdo it, the work will probably be really boring for a while, but at least I'll be earning a bit again and we can start getting ourselves sorted out. We'll talk to the bank and come to an arrangement about the mortgage. Surely the fact that you've never missed payments before this last year or so and you have the promise of being able to pay the debt off properly when the private developments are completed will mean something. We will get things sorted out and I will be fine, Arthur, so try not to worry."

Arthur eased out of Guinevere's arms after a moment and looked into her eyes. She sounded so certain everything was going to work out and her eyes reflected her belief. "You're really sure everything is going to be all right, aren't you?" He caressed her cheek as he spoke, smiling in spite of himself when she leaned into the touch.

Guinevere nodded. Echoing his earlier caresses, she turned her head and dropped a soft kiss into his palm. "As long as we are together and we have the children, everything else will work out, I know it. I know it won't be easy and it won't happen overnight, but it'll happen."

"But what if the bank won't be reasonable?" Arthur sighed heavily. He wanted so much to believe Guinevere was right, but the nagging voice of doubt wouldn't be silenced. "My father's money will help us for now, it'll clear what we owe the bank at the moment, but unless I can get the private developments completed soon and the local authorities pay me what they owe, we could end up back where we started eventually. What if we go through all this and we still end up losing the house, what then?"

"We'll get somewhere smaller and we'll start again," Guinevere took Arthur's face into her hands as she spoke, gently caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. "I love this house, Arthur. I love it because you bought it for me when I was afraid to put another baby in the nursery where Gwydre died. I love this house because you put me first and bought this place and I have been happy here, but at the end of the day it is just a house. As long as I've got you and the children, as long as we're together, I'll be happy anywhere. I would live in a cave with you as long as we could be together."

In spite of his concern for their future if the bank was less than helpful, Arthur smiled. "I think we'll be able to do a bit better than a cave, but thanks for the vote of confidence." He gently took Guinevere's hands from his face, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her softly and then he eased out of her arms and got to his feet. "I really need to get going if I'm going to clear the air with Percival today. Will you be all right while I'm out, I'll only be a couple of hours?"

"I'll be fine," Guinevere said softly, a warm smile gracing her features. "Take as long as you need. It's time I was up and about myself by now, you're not the only one who is running late."

Arthur's face lit up in an affectionate grin. "I'm still not sorry."

A while later, Arthur pulled his car to a halt outside Pendragon Homes. He still felt apprehensive about whatever lay ahead when he spoke to Percival. It wasn't that Percival was unreasonable, Arthur knew better than most, the man was really a gentle giant, but he knew perfectly well, everyone had their limits in terms of what they were prepared to put up with. Percival had been carrying Pendragon Homes for months, a responsibility that wasn't even his, but instead of being grateful and appreciating his hard work, Arthur knew he'd allowed his fears for what might lie ahead for his family if they lost the house and what it could mean for the business, to cloud his judgement. Instead of being honest he'd become suspicious, almost paranoid, checking every decision Percival made, making more and more unreasonable demands of him. He'd done to Percival exactly what his father had once done to him, he knew it, but that was the problem. He knew exactly how Percival was probably feeling about him, because he'd felt the same about his father once. The question was, how could he put it right?

Getting out of the car, Arthur walked into the building. He tried to look natural and relaxed, as if walking into the company he had owned since his father retired was the everyday occurrence it should be, but he knew it wasn't. He wondered what sort of reception he would receive from all the staff, knowing he'd been less than forthcoming and approachable with any of them for months. He made the decision to speak to Percival in private first, but then he knew he would have to speak to the rest of the staff if he was going to clear the air properly.

Looking around the open plan front office that sat behind the agencies wide windows, Arthur couldn't see Percival. All the staff in the office were either on the phone or their heads were bent over their work, though Arthur sensed that some of that was that they were trying not to look up at him and draw attention to themselves. None of them acknowledged his presence in any way. The chatter that was going on in the office when he walked in died abruptly and turned into an awkward silence that could have been cut with a knife. He was painfully reminded for a moment of times when he arrived at work before his father retired. There wouldn't be a sound in the office apart from ringing telephones, the sound of keyboards tapping or the electronic sounds coming from a printer. Any attempts anyone made at light conversation while they worked would be greeted by a glare from his father.

Eventually, one of the young members of staff, a dark haired, petite young woman Arthur couldn't place, ended a telephone call and got up from her desk. She acknowledged Arthur's presence with her eyes, stood and walked towards him.

Stretching out a hand in greeting, the young woman smiled warmly. "Good morning Sir," she shook Arthur's hand firmly, in a way that seemed confident, as if she was familiar with the office and how it worked. He took in her lilting Irish accent when she spoke, the way it suited her friendly but efficient attitude. For a reason he couldn't understand, he was suddenly reminded of Merlin, the man who had made Gwydre's headstone at very short notice years before. Something in this woman's manner was very like Merlin somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"My name is Freya, how can I help you this morning?" The young woman continued to smile, but not in a fixed, robotic sort of way, but as if she was genuinely interested and Arthur took in the way she looked into his eyes when she spoke.

Shaking the young woman's hand, Arthur acknowledged her welcome with a nod and a small smile. "I'm looking for Percival," he explained, casting an eye around the office again. "Is he around somewhere?"

The young woman nodded in understanding. "He's working in the office at the back of the building for a while this morning," she explained, indicating with a gesture to a short corridor that led off from the front office.

There were two doors in the corridor, Arthur knew very well. One was his office, though he'd always preferred working in the front office with the rest of the staff, much to his father's bewilderment in the past. The other door led to a larger room that was once the austere and uncomfortable office that belonged to his father, but had since been converted to a comfortable area for the staff to sit and take a break at lunchtimes or if they had staff meetings, something Arthur had done regularly when he had taken over from Uther, but he'd allowed to lapse over the last year. It was something he would bring back, he told himself, knowing the way the staff had seemed to appreciate him keeping them informed and giving them a chance to speak to him freely about any concerns they might have. Would they still want the opportunity to speak to him after the way he'd been behaving? The question whirred around in his mind and he had no answer for it, but he knew he needed to try to rebuild the relationship he had with the staff before he got his priorities all wrong.

"I'll go through and see if Percival is free to speak to you," Freya said politely. "Who should I say is waiting to speak with him?"

Arthur suddenly realised that as much as he'd been at a loss to place the young woman who had welcomed him into the office, she had no idea who he was. His name had obviously not come up much in the office lately, he thought, his apprehension over seeing Percival rising a notch. He cleared his throat awkwardly and then dragged the hint of a smile to his lips in an attempt to not look offended or intimidating. He held his hand out again. "My name is Arthur Pendragon and I suppose I'm your boss, technically anyway."

Freya's hands flew to her cheeks as her eyes widened in horror. A flush began to creep over her face that almost reached her hairline. "Sir, I'm so sorry!" she sounded mortified with embarrassment. "I've only been here a couple of months, one of the staff left and I replaced her. I had no idea who you were, I..."

She lowered one of her hands from her cheek and shook Arthur's hand automatically, looking like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, but Arthur's smile widened. "Don't worry about it," he said, shaking his head. "I've been trying to place you, but if you haven't been with us very long it's no wonder I hadn't met you yet, or rather," his smile slipped away momentarily, "it's no wonder now. I haven't been around much myself lately. Oh, and by the way," he had a sudden thought. "My name is Arthur, not Sir, are you enjoying the job?"

By now Freya's face was awash with relief, although there was still a hint of a flush on her cheeks. "I'm enjoying it very much, Sir…I mean Arthur," she corrected herself with a small shake of her head. "Everyone has been so kind and welcoming. I thought Percival might be a bit scary when I first saw him because he's so tall," she explained, shaking her head at herself again, "but he's been very kind."

"Good, I'm glad," Arthur nodded. "Now Freya," he used the young woman's name in a way that suggested he was making sure he'd got it right and she nodded and gave him another warm smile, "if you don't mind, I'll take myself through to see Percival. I need to see him, but I don't want to be too long. My wife has only just recently come out of hospital and I'd like to get back to her as soon as possible, but if you could do me a favour and spread the word, I would like a quick word with everyone before I go."

"I will do that Arthur," Freya nodded in agreement. "I hope your wife gets better soon and it has been nice to meet you."

When she finished speaking Freya went to turn away from Arthur until he said her name and she turned back to him with a question in her eyes. "I know this is going to sound mad," Arthur said, knowing he was probably about to make himself look ridiculous, "but do you happen to know a bloke called Merlin, a tall, dark haired bloke with ears that stick out? You remind me of him somehow, but I'm probably being silly and now you'll think I'm crazy."

Freya's eyes lit up and her face widened into the most genuine smile Arthur had seen from her yet. "Actually, believe it or not, I don't think you are crazy at all, I just wonder how you knew?"

Arthur looked at Freya in confusion, until his eye was suddenly drawn to left hand, where a simple gold band decorated her ring finger. "You're his wife?" Arthur's voice came out as a whisper of disbelief.

Freya nodded and laughed softly. "Yes, I'm Merlin's wife. I met him four years ago when he made a headstone after my grandmother died. We married a couple of years later, but how do you know him, if you don't mind me asking?"

Arthur shook his head to indicate he didn't mind. "Merlin made my eldest son's headstone," he explained, still feeling the familiar ache in his chest that any mention of Gwydre always brought, even after so long. "We lost him to cot death when he was three months old," he went on and Freya saw the cloud that passed over his features as he spoke, until his eyes brightened. "I set Merlin the ridiculous task of making a headstone at really late notice, but he did it and he did a beautiful job with it. You can tell him from me, the headstone helped my wife and I when we needed it the most. I haven't been to my son's grave much lately, but I'm sure it still looks beautiful. Will you give my regards to Merlin?"

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Freya said sadly. "I'm so glad Merlin's work brought you and your wife some comfort, he'll be glad to know that and I will give him your regards Arthur, and I'm sure he would want me to do the same."

Gathering his thoughts together and telling Freya he hoped she would continue to enjoy working at Pendragon Homes, Arthur made his way through to his small office. In a show of politeness he knocked on the door, but reminding himself it was his office, he went inside before Percival could grant him entry.

Percival was on the phone, sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, when Arthur went into the office. When he realised he wasn't alone, Percival's eyes turned to the intruder, widening slightly in surprise for a second, while the shoulders that had seemed relaxed a moment before sagged momentarily until Percival seemed to straighten himself up in his seat, his shoulders rising in alertness, almost like he was holding back the urge to stand to attention.

Watching the way his presence in the room changed Percival's demeanour immediately, Arthur's heart sank. He was reminded of himself on the few times when his father was late into the office. He could be having a perfectly nice day, getting on with his work, talking to clients and exchanging pleasantries with the staff, until his father walked in, a heavy frown darkening his features. Every time it happened Arthur would feel his heart practically sinking to his shoes, while the atmosphere in the office would become tense. People who had been making easy conversation a moment before would quieten down, every one of them, including Arthur, he could acknowledge it now, afraid of provoking Uther's temper. The thought of making anyone feel as he had felt in the past made Arthur cringe inwardly and he told himself he was going to put it right before the gulf that had opened up between him and the man sat in front of him could widen any further.

A moment later Percival put the phone down and turned his attention to Arthur. "Arthur," he went to stand as he spoke, his great height making him seem like a larger presence in the room. "It's good to see you."

Arthur knew the other man was lying, it was written all over his face, but he let it go. "I just popped in to see how things are going." He told a lie of his own, knowing it was stupid, but doing it anyway in an attempt to...what, exactly? Feel a bit better? Gain some ground on the other man? He had no idea. In his mind's eye he could see Guinevere shaking her head at him, looking disappointed. The image pushed him forward. Taking a breath, he went on. "I also came to apologise." He shook his head and gestured for the other man to stay in his seat.

Percival's eyes widened even more. "For what?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion in a way that Arthur thought looked utterly genuine for a moment, but the disbelief in the eyes contradicted the message the rest of Percival's face was sending. While his manner, his tone, suggested there was no need for an apology and everything was perfectly normal, his eyes gave away what he really thought, that he couldn't believe this moment had come. He sank back down in his seat behind the desk, looking far from comfortable.

"I think you already know," Arthur said, edging a bit closer to the desk, glancing over the familiar items that were all his, a photo of Guinevere at one end of the desk and one of the children on the other, a monogrammed silver pen set Guinevere had given him as a birthday present a couple of years after he'd taken over the company from his father, a small stapler in the shape of a whale the children had presented him with one Christmas, although Llacheu, who had just turned four at the time and had inherited his mother's propensity for telling the truth, had bashfully admitted when they handed over the gift that "Mum paid for it really."

"Never mind, it's the thought that counts," Arthur had hugged both of his children tightly against him, already planning to put the stapler in pride of place on his desk at work. The thought had gone through his mind that his desk showed how much his life had changed. For years he'd kept nothing personal on his desk, not even a photo of Guinevere, preferring to keep his personal life with her separate from his business dealings with his father. Things changed when he took over from Uther. From having just a small plastic desk tidy on his desk, soon it reflected his life outside of work, photos of Guinevere and the children, including Gwydre, appeared, along with little things the children gave him and the pen set Guinevere had gifted him with. The personal items on his desk reminded him who he was working for, he'd told himself, throwing himself into work with more purpose than he'd ever felt before when it finally sank in, at least on some level, that he no longer had to pander to his father's whims and he could run Pendragon Homes as he saw fit.

Looking back now, Arthur knew he should have been content. He had a beautiful, loving wife he adored to the depths of his soul. They'd survived losing Gwydre, put themselves back together and they'd had Llachue and Amhar. The children didn't erase what they'd lost, both he and Guinevere knew that and from the start they made a conscious decision to not let Llachue and Amhar live in Gwydre's shadow, but they'd brought something new into their lives, a level of joy Arthur couldn't put into words even in his own mind, but it was there all the same, enriching their lives and tightening the bonds he already thought were unbreakable between them, until, all of a sudden, he started to convince himself that whatever he did for his family, they deserved more. The success of those first few houses he'd built before Llachue was born clouded his thinking when he was offered more work by local authorities up and down the country. Then he was offered the private developments and in his urgency to give his family what he thought they deserved, the trappings of nice things and more money, he lost sight of what was important and why he was working so hard in the first place, until Guinevere suffered the ectopic pregnancy and the reality of how close he'd come to losing her forever brought him to a shuddering halt.

"Forget it," Percival said dismissively, shaking his head and indicating to the chair on the other side of the desk, inviting Arthur to sit with an expression on his face that suggested that if Arthur wouldn't let him vacate the chair he was sitting in, a chair that wasn't his, he could at least sit down so that they would be on the same level. As he gave in and sat, Arthur deliberately ignored the irony that Percival was still taller than him even when he was sitting down, but he watched the tension begin to slide away from Percival's demeanour all the same.

"I think you know I can't do that," Arthur spoke again. "Believe me, I wish I could, but I can't. All I can say is that I haven't been myself for a while. I got distracted and lost sight of what is really important, my home and family, but I also lost sight of how to treat people. I treated you like an employee, Percival, and I'm sorry."

"You had every right," Percival replied evenly. "I am an employee, we both know that."

Arthur shook his head vehemently. Somehow he had a sense that the man in front of him, who gave every appearance of being threatening and formidable, but was actually one of the most gentle people in the world, was making him work to put things right between them. He surprised himself by feeling no resentment towards Percival's attitude. He was showing he could stand up for himself, Arthur thought, admiring his strength of character. "You're more than that," he said after a moment, noticing the way Percival's brows arched quizzically. "You've kept this business going over the last year and I repaid you for your work by treating you like dirt and checking on you all the time. I know now my behaviour was unnecessary, completely uncalled for and I'm sorry for it."

"I can understand you keeping an eye on the business," Percival said, sounding a little less tense than he had when Arthur walked into the office. "But I do know my job, Arthur. You made me feel like you didn't trust me all of a sudden and I didn't know why."

Arthur nodded, his guilt writhing in his stomach. "I know, and the truth is, I don't know why either, except that I was scared."

"Of what?" Percival asked, frowning.

Arthur shrugged and shook his head, a sickly smile forming on his lips. "Everything. I was scared of everything, or rather, I was scared of losing everything, so I thought the only thing I could do was try to control all the things I could control, but in the process I've alienated you and I'm sorry."

"You never even told me when you went to Manchester," the frustration in Percival's tone was obvious now. "How do you think I felt when your father walked in wanting to know when you would be back and I had no idea you were even there? Your father looked worried sick, Arthur, but I had nothing to say to him that would be much use, apart from being able to tell him you'd stopped talking to me like you used to and you'd started checking up on me, because you didn't trust me enough to talk to me, let me know what you were doing. I wouldn't have stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted. I've never wanted to pry into your private affairs, but you shut me out, stopped asking my opinion, stopped letting me know when you would be around, but at the same time you would turn up when you wanted to check on me and give me your latest list of orders."

"I know," Arthur conceded without any attempt to argue. He knew he couldn't argue with what Percival was saying, it was all true, every word of it and it was entirely his own fault. "I can't offer any sort of explanation for my behaviour," he deliberately looked into the other man's eyes as he spoke. "I got into a mess with the construction work, things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I planned. I was trying to keep things going without telling anyone what was going on, even my wife, Percival. I stuck my head in the sand, I know that now, but it was because I was frightened of what might happen to Pendragon Homes if it got out that I was in a mess, so I tried to hide it and pretend it wasn't happening."

Percival heaved a sigh. When he spoke again he sounded weary. "You could have come and talked to me. I don't know if I could have been much use, but you could have come and talked to me."

Arthur nodded, knowing Percival was right. He could have gone and spoken to Percival, he should have done.

"I know I'm not a partner in the business, but I thought we understood each other, Arthur, but you didn't trust me." Percival ran a hand over his face as he spoke. "I've been working all the hours God sends to keep things running smoothly here, but for months you've barely noticed."

Arthur nodded again. "I've regarded you as a partner for a long time, we do understand each other and I do trust you, I trust you implicitly, but I was scared and stupid. I know how hard you must have been working Percival, and I appreciate it more than I can say, truly. I know it would serve me right if you walked out of here and never looked back. The truth is, that's what I deserve.".

Percival's frustration slipped away slowly. "So, is everything all right now, did you sort out your problems?"

"I have an appointment with the bank next week," Arthur explained. "I've missed a lot of payments on my mortgage, that's been the issue. I was embarrassed to get into that position in the first place, but then I was scared to admit it because I thought I would lose everything, my wife, my children, my home, the business. I don't know yet about my home and the business, that depends on what the bank has to say, but my wife and children are still there, even after the way I've treated them lately. You are not the only one I've treated like dirt, Percival."

The regret in Arthur's tone was clear to Percival. "You should have more faith in people," he said softly. "Not everyone is going to walk away when the going gets tough, Arthur. I might have got frustrated over the last year, I didn't need to be checked up on and I still think you could have come and spoken to me, but I'm still here and I don't intend going anywhere else if you will just talk to me and work with me like you used to."

"I will," Arthur said simply, still feeling guilty for how he'd been behaving and seeing no point in hiding it. "I really am sorry, Percival. I'll try to be here more often in future, I'll keep you informed and included."

"It's not about you being here more often," Percival said, the hint of a smile breaking through his lips, his eyes shining. "I can run the place when you can't be here, that's not a problem. All I need to know is that you'll stop coming in here and throwing your weight around, it makes you bloody awful to work with."

Arthur smirked in spite of himself. "I think I'd better stop, don't you? It makes me feel like my father," he pulled a face that brought a huff of laughter from Percival, but then his face straightened. "I really am sorry, Percival." As he spoke he stood and held out his hand.

Percival rose to his feet, towering over Arthur in the small room. He reached over and shook his hand firmly. "Forget it," he shook his head as he spoke, "but don't let it happen again."

There was a hint of humour in Percival's voice, but Arthur was still deadly serious. He knew the damage he'd nearly done lately and he knew he had to put it right. "I won't," he crossed his heart with his hand. "I've let down a lot of people lately, but I've learned my lesson. It won't happen again."

Days went by. The children broke up from school to start their six weeks holiday. Arthur and Guinevere sat with them early in the holidays and they made a list of things they wanted to do over the next few weeks. Guinevere tried to steer the children towards things that wouldn't cost much, things they could get to easily and would be either cheap or free to get in to. Arthur didn't like to think of them having to deny the children what they wanted to do, places they wanted to go to, but when they were alone, in bed, wrapped in each other arms, Guinevere reasoned that they needed to be sensible, at least until they knew how things were going to work out with the bank.

"If the bank is reasonable," she explained, leaning against Arthur's chest on a warm summer night, "we might be able to stretch things a bit and take the children a bit further afield, maybe to the coast, somewhere like Seagrove Bay or Hayling Island Beach for the day, but I don't want to promise the children something and then find out we can't afford it, Arthur. It wouldn't be fair on them."

"Seagrove Bay is only in the Isle of Wight and Hayling Island Beach is near Portsmouth. Neither of them are that far away, we could still afford to do that," Arthur grumbled, hating the idea of them having to economise at all, knowing they'd never had to before, not really, although Guinevere had never been extravagant and never bought anything just for the sake of it, except when it came to Christmas and birthday presents for the children. Then they splashed out, gave the children what they wanted, but in between she was moderate with her spending, obviously having the memories of her childhood, when her Dad didn't have much to give her except an abundance of love, in the back of her mind.

"Yes," Guinevere agreed readily and Arthur thought for a moment he'd won, until she sat up and turned to him, frowning. "But if we do something like that, the expense doesn't end when we get there, does it? We would both need to be available to go if we were to do it soon because I can't drive yet, but even if we waited a few weeks we would both need to take the time off work and I don't earn anything while I'm on holidays, you know that. We'd have to pay for petrol there and back, there would be activities the children would want to try and I know you Arthur, you couldn't bring yourself to deny them. Then there would be food and drinks and things and the expense would just mount up," she shook her head. "No, it would be better if we promise the children the zoo for now, because that's close by and we can spend as little as possible while we are there, and then we'll see where we are when we've seen the bank manager."

"You're still set on being sensible, aren't you?" Arthur sighed, knowing Guinevere was right really, but still trying to resist it.

"We have to be," Guinevere said, sensing Arthur's reluctance to accept the truth of their situation. She knew very well that though their debt seemed huge to her, it was nothing compared to the mess some people were in, as Arthur told her several times. Still, she reasoned, they had never been in debt before, either of them, so the thought of owing anyone anything was frightening and she wanted to clear it as soon as possible. She also knew that Winchester Village, where they lived, was an expensive area. The Albion Estate, where the flat they'd lived in for the first few years of their marriage was, was in what was known as an affluent area, but Winchester Village had been a significant step up when they moved in to the house before Llacheu was born and nothing had changed over time, except prices for even the most basic commodities, had risen. One night recently she pushed Arthur into writing out where all their outgoings were being spent and what money they had to live on now that the money from the first few houses Arthur built was virtually gone. It didn't take long to discover that most of their combined salaries, especially Arthur's, stretched to food and the bills, electricity, the gas, water, council tax and all the other expenses a family would have, a television licence, the expense of running two cars, though Guinevere had always insisted on paying the running costs of her car herself, from her own salary and her income had also covered the fun things they did with the children at times, days out and so on. Arthur's income also paid for clothes, especially for the children, and so on, but at the moment it barely stretched to cover the mortgage repayments as they stood at present and it wouldn't meet the cost of paying his father back at all.

The stark realisation they faced, a fact they both knew really, but it had stared up at them coldly from the paper Arthur wrote on, was that Arthur needed to spend more time working and actually earning some money and less time away, while Guinevere needed to go back to work as soon as she could safely do so if they were to get by, but if they wanted to keep their home and pay Uther back even a small amount, it was vital that the bank should give them some leeway on the mortgage, perhaps reduce the payments and let them pay it back over a longer period. If the bank was unreasonable, if they felt that though the money Uther had given them would get them out of trouble for now, but they couldn't be convinced that there was any chance of them meeting future mortgage payments each month until the money from the work Arthur had done with the construction company rolled in and Arthur still couldn't give a definitive date for when that would be, they could still find themselves in the position of losing their home, which would put everything they had in jeopardy.

"I know we have to be sensible," Arthur conceded, anxiety rolling in his stomach at the thought of the reality of their situation, knowing their future stood in the hands of the bank. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it." He knew he sounded petulant, but he hated the lack of control he felt, the thought of their future being so much at the whim of the bank.

"No, of course it doesn't," Guinevere agreed. "But we will get through it, Arthur," she tried to sound hopeful, sensing his need for something positive to cling to. "We'll talk to the bank, convince them we're reliable and hard working and they'll do what they can for us. We just need to be careful for a while, think about what we're spending more, but the main thing is that we have to stick together. If we do that we can get through anything."

"Thank God for you," Arthur sighed, pulling Guinevere closer into his arms and inhaling her scent until sleep crept up to claim him. Guinevere lay awake for a while after Arthur. She listened to his even breathing, watched the stress she'd seen in his face moments before begin to slip away as he relaxed into slumber. Still holding him close, she closed her eyes and prayed for everything to work out.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N My thanks to those of you who wrote reviews for the previous chapter. It was a chapter I expected to struggle with somehow, because not a lot happens as such, there are no big developments in the story. It felt important to me to really set the scene of how big the bank's decision is to Arthur and Guinevere and how much of a change, at least in the short term, owing a large amount of money will be for them. One reviewer wrote that it's time for Arthur to grow up. Well, I can see that, but I've done quite a bit of research on how people can behave when they find themselves in debt. One thing people can do is go into denial and that's what Arthur was doing to a degree early in the story. People can also become so embarrassed and scared of the situation that they find themselves incapable of seeking the help and advice that is out there for people in financial difficulty. That's very much the way Arthur was early on. Another thing you might be surprised that people will do is resist the idea that they have to make changes if they want things to get better, they can't just go on as they have before. That's the position Arthur is in, at least to a degree. He does know the situation really, but this is a man who has never owed anyone anything in his life and he's struggling with the reality of the situation he's in and how it will impact on people other than him, Guinevere and the children, but in his heart he does know it will. It felt right to me to show the differences between Arthur and Guinevere's characters at this point. She strikes me as the practical one, the 'this is what we have to do and we have to get on with it' one, whereas Arthur, for all his bravado at times, strikes me as someone who will resist certain realities, especially when they are an unknown quantity to him, but he does get to the same point in the end, it just takes him a bit longer to accept it.**

 **Now, before I get told off for the longest author's note in history, I will move on. We are very near the end of this now. My muse has struggled with it all along if I'm honest. The idea in my head was only really half developed when I started writing and it has never felt entirely comfortable. I'm not sure it has worked, although I am pleased with some elements of the story, it hasn't quite gelled as I would have liked.**

The day of Arthur and Guinevere's appointment at the bank finally dawned, bright and clear. It was the sort of day no one should have a care in the world, Guinevere thought, climbing out of bed as the first rays of warm summer sunlight began to stream through the bedroom curtains, but the weariness in her bones and the tiredness in her eyes when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror in the en suite bathroom when she went to the toilet, told a different story.

Arthur wasn't beside Guinevere when she first stirred, reaching for him automatically, but it didn't come as a great surprise. He'd barely slept a wink all night. Every time Guinevere stirred in the night she heard him tossing and turning. She'd wondered if he was just warm at first when he pushed the light summer quilt on the bed off himself, leaving him in a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts he liked to sleep in when the weather was warm, but when he'd got up for the third time in the space of not much more than twenty minutes and dragged himself across the carpeted floor to their en suite bathroom, she knew it was more than that.

When Arthur came out of the en suite a few minutes later, shuffling across the bedroom as quietly as he could and climbing into bed carefully so as not to disrupt her sleep, Guinevere sighed. She could sense his anxiety rolling off him in waves. Every movement he made, every sound of his breathing, seemed to be an effort, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When Arthur climbed back into bed for the third time Guinevere gave him a moment to settle. She rolled towards him when he got into bed beside her. She was careful to keep her eyes closed so he wouldn't get it into his head that she was either fussing over him and it would cause an argument, or he was keeping her awake and he would worry about her, but after a few minutes of silence when he got back into bed, lay back down and turned onto his side, his back to her, and she hoped he would relax enough to sleep now, he was tossing and turning again, she knew she had to do something.

"Arthur?" She kept her voice light and soft, barely more than a whisper. She didn't want him to think he'd kept her awake, even if he had. She allowed her eyes to half open.

"Shhh, go back to sleep, it's late, or early, or...something." He lay on his back now, gazing up at the bedroom ceiling. He was clearly no closer to getting any sleep.

Giving up any pretence of being asleep, Guinevere's eyes opened fully and she turned to look at the digital clock on her bedside table, the numbers glowing bright red in the dark room. "It's 2 o'clock in the morning," she turned back onto her side as she spoke, coming face to face with Arthur's hunched shoulders when he rolled away from her again as she sat up, "and I don't think you've closed your eyes for more than a few minutes all night." She picked her words carefully, kept her voice low and soft. She could feel the tension radiating from Arthur's back, as if he a was coiled spring waiting to burst free.

A moment later Arthur heaved a shuddering sigh and then he rolled back towards Guinevere. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, as if she didn't know, but the words died on her lips when she suddenly found herself beneath him. She looked up at him in the darkness of their room, saw the heaviness in his eyes as the tiredness he couldn't submit to began to fight with the fire she could see taking hold inside him when he looked down at her, his gaze penetrating her, while she felt his racing heartbeat when he allowed some of the weight he'd been holding off her for the last few seconds to push her down into the mattress. His arms wrapped around her body, hauling her even more tightly against him until every bit of him was touching every bit of her and the growing fire in his eyes took hold at last, vanquishing his exhaustion.

"What is it?" Guinevere asked, frowning slightly when Arthur's heated gaze deepened. It was like he was studying her, taking her in, trying to absorb everything about her, as if he thought she could slip through his grasp at any moment. She managed to work one of her arms, which lay under the bedclothes, out from between their bodies. Her hand went to his back and stroked gently, trying to ease the tension she could still feel flowing from him. "What's the matter?"

Arthur's eyes closed for a moment as Guinevere's soothing touch caressed the tight muscles of his back. He gave himself up to the sensation her nearness always provoked in him, the unquenchable desire he felt for her, even during the times he wouldn't let himself show it. He let it consume him now, let it show in the tightness of his hold on her, the way he held her against him, letting her feel the arousal rising in him. He allowed himself to feel the intensity of his love for her, this thing inside him he'd felt almost from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her that had only grown with every minute, every hour, every day he'd spent in her company. Loving Guinevere had come as naturally as breathing to him. It was something that was completely beyond his control, the one thing in his life he'd never needed to control. It was something outside of him, but it was necessary to his very existence. He let himself wallow in her touch, marvelling in the miracle that was this woman, who had taken him when she could have had anyone she wanted, who had given him three beautiful children, who had never done anything but love him, even when he'd failed her over and over and he was on the brink of failing her again. The thought made his eyes fly open and tightened his arms around her further. He felt like he was drowning and she was his only lifeline, but she was slipping through his fingers, drifting away from him and he couldn't bear it.

"Shhh" Guinevere soothed, her brow creasing with worry for him. She freed her other hand from between them to join the hand that was stroking up and down Arthur's back. Though his hold on her was becoming almost too tight and uncomfortable, she pulled him closer, held him against her when the eyes that had been glowing down on her suddenly filled with agonising pain. "Talk to me," she coaxed him gently, one hand still stroking his back as he trembled in her arms, the other moving to his hair and running it through her fingers.

It was almost like he was one of the children, she thought, remembering nights when Amhar was afraid of the dark and needed to be comforted with soft words and a gentle touch, until she slowly began to reveal what she was so afraid of. But the feelings in Arthur's eyes when he looked down on her were not at all childish, she thought, still feeling the heat of his gaze, and the hardness of the arousal that lay between them beneath the sheets and his shorts, reminded her that he was a man, the man she loved. "Please, just talk to me. There's nothing we can't sort out if you'll just tell me what's wrong. Let me help you Arthur, please." She tried not to plead with him, tried not to sound desperate, but the way he trembled in her arms made her ache for him. Just like when one of the children fell over and bumped their knee, she longed to take his pain away.

"Promise me you won't leave me," Arthur spoke at last, his voice husky and lower than usual. His lips brushed Guinevere's skin as he nestled in her arms, his body still trembling with pent up tension. "Promise me, if it doesn't go as we want at the bank in the morning, you won't leave me and you won't take the children away from me."

Though she knew it was his anxiety over what might be ahead when they met the bank manager in the morning talking, Arthur's words hurt Guinevere in a way she couldn't begin to express, even to herself. Why couldn't he get it into his head that she loved him every bit as much as he loved her? Why couldn't he grasp that she needed him, that she wasn't complete without him? She swallowed hard and closed her eyes as tears swam across her vision, but with every second of silence between them she felt the tension in Arthur's body rising when his arms tightened around her even more, heard his breathing speed up and felt his heart pounding against her as something like panic began to consume him.

"Arthur, listen to me," Sensing Arthur's panic, Guinevere spoke firmly as she pushed against him to try to make him move so she could look him in the eye. She swallowed down her tears, knowing she didn't have time for them now. She felt him resist for a moment and his arms tightened around her, almost knocking the breath out of her, but she didn't feel afraid of him. She'd never needed to be frightened of Arthur in her life, she thought, her mind going back over the blazing rows they'd had after Gwydre died. They might have screamed and shouted at each other, but he'd never raised a hand to her, not once, and somehow she knew he never would, never. The thought gave her strength and she pushed against him harder, until, almost panting and his eyes wide with fear, he loosened his hold on her and lifted some of his weight off her.

"Shh, just listen to me," Guinevere softened her voice, but her tone reflected her strength when Arthur opened his mouth to speak, his eyes reflecting his inner turmoil. She reached up and took his face in her hands, felt the rough, unshaven skin, the tracks of tears and sweat his panic had created. "We've had this out, haven't we?" she asked him, shaking her head as the tears she'd pushed away moments before began to fall from her eyes to the pillow beneath her head. "I've told you Arthur, I will never leave you and I will never take the children away from you, why can't you just believe me?" She allowed the pain his words had caused her to show in her voice.

"But if I lose everything," he swallowed convulsively and Guinevere felt him trembling as he lay, his body still more than half over hers. "If the bank won't change the terms of the mortgage, we will lose the house, there's no way we could prevent it in the long run, not now, not without both of us going out and working every minute of the day, half killing ourselves and never seeing the children and I can't do that to them, but now I have my father to pay back too. We'd be effectively bankrupt, Guinevere, and I would lose Pendragon Homes. If that happened I'd literally be unemployable. I've never done anything except sell properties, I don't know how to be anything else, so I couldn't work. We'd be living on your income God knows where. We wouldn't be able to afford anything decent because our debts would continue to increase and that would suck up what we might get back on this place when the bank sells it, which wouldn't be anything like what we bought it for. We would never get out of the mess and it would be my fault because I've been so bloody arrogant."

"I would still never leave you," Guinevere's grip on Arthur's cheeks tightened as he reeled off the worst possible scenario they could face. Though she was glad he was facing up to the realities of their situation, she knew he was torturing himself because he was scared. Her tears still fell, but she willed them away to look steadily into his eyes. "We'll go to the bank in the morning and you and your father can explain your arrangement about the money he's lending us, and then you can explain the issues you've had with the construction work, the problems you've come across and the way the local authorities are holding back on paying for the work you've done. You can tell them you've never faltered with the mortgage before, you can show them you've never missed a payment and that you'll have money when the construction work is done. They'd be stupid if they didn't see things our way, you know they would, and," she allowed a suggestive smile to break through her lips, "you know how persuasive you can be when you want something, and so do I."

In spite of himself, Arthur let a watery huff of laughter out for a moment before his face fell again. "You make it sound so easy."

Guinevere shook her head, her smile slipping away. "I know it's not easy my love, but I also know you can do it. _We_ will get through this, Arthur and I'll be there every step of the way, just you try and keep me away. They haven't bred the wild horse yet that could drag me away from you, do you hear me?"

Goosebumps broke out on Arthur's skin at the intensity of Guinevere's gaze on him and the determination in her voice. "God, what did I do to deserve you?" His voice was a breathless sigh of disbelief. "I just don't deserve you."

"Don't say that," Guinevere frowned at him. His eyes widened in surprise at her sharp tone, but her frown deepened. "I mean it Arthur, don't ever say that to me again. It's not about whether we deserve each other or who has done what in the past. It's about us, both of us, how much we love each other now, and how much we need each other, because we do, Arthur, we need each other. We're like two halves of the same coin, you and me, we need each other to be any use, without each other there's not much point to anything, is there?"

Dazzled by the strength of the woman he loved, Arthur shook his head. "No point at all, no."

"Right," Guinevere sighed. "Do you think you can get some sleep now? If we don't, the pair of us will look a sight in front of the bank manager." She smiled up at him when he moved closer to her again, not stifling her as he did before, but close enough that his body hovered over hers. She relished the feeling of him being so close. She pulled him down towards her, kissed him softly on the lips.

"I'm not sure I'm quite ready to sleep yet, no," Arthur said, his voice and eyes dazed when Guinevere released him from the kiss. The passion he'd felt so intensely a few moments before began to stir again and he wrapped his arms loosely around her body.

In the loose circle of Arthur's arms, Guinevere knew exactly what was in his mind. She felt his body responding to hers and she arched against him, smiling when he closed his eyes and his hold on her tightened again. "Well," another suggestive smile appeared on her lips. "I suppose I'd better keep you company then."

"You did mention something about us needing each other," Arthur grinned, allowing his fears to slip away for a moment. There was time enough for him to worry in the morning, he thought, before casting the idea away. Now he would bask in Guinevere's love, knowing she was never going anywhere without him.

Her face glowing, Guinevere nodded. "I did, didn't I?" Anything else she might have said slipped away when Arthur pulled her against him and clamped his lips against hers.

Hours later, after very little sleep, Guinevere walked out of the en suite bathroom and slipped into her summer dressing gown. Walking out of the master bedroom, she thought of waking the children for a moment, but decided against it. They could sleep for a while longer, it would give her and Arthur more time to talk.

Guinevere walked down the stairs, one of her hands sliding down the smooth light wood bannister. When she was downstairs she went to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief when she found Arthur, still wearing the shorts and t-shirt he'd worn in bed, sipping what she thought was probably a mug of tea, but judging by his pale skin and tired eyes, she wondered if coffee might have been a better option.

Arthur turned from sipping his tea as soon as he heard Guinevere's bare feet padding across the tiled floor in the kitchen. She glowed when the smile that touched his lips when he saw her shone in his eyes for a moment, before flickering out. He went to stand, but she shook her head and went to him as he sat at the table, one hand still holding his drink. At his side, she put an arm around his shoulders for a moment, leaned towards him and kissed him softly on the lips in greeting. "Did you get any sleep?" she asked, though the answer was already evident in the bags and dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Arthur shrugged and put his mug down on the table. "An hour or so, maybe, but no more than that. I gave up at half past five this morning. There was no point in lying there, knowing there was no chance of getting any more sleep."

"You should have woken me," Guinevere chided him gently, releasing him from her hold reluctantly to put the kettle on again and make herself a drink. She selected coffee from the metal caddies in front of her on the kitchen worktop and added the water to the coffee grounds in her cup when it was boiled before going to the fridge for milk and adding some to the hot drink. "Do you want another drink?" She turned to Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'm all right, thanks, and if you remember, I kept you awake until 3 o'clock, though I know you wanted me to think you'd been asleep when I disturbed you at 2 o'clock. Then I woke you again at four. Even I'm not selfish enough to wake you again at half past five."

Putting the milk back in the fridge, Guinevere picked up her mug and carried it to the table. She realised as she sat down, not opposite Arthur as she often did, but next to him at the table, that he must be tired. He hadn't told her off for lifting the kettle, though she wasn't really supposed to be lifting anything for a few more weeks and he knew it.

"It doesn't matter," she shook her head, answering Arthur, her mind drifting back to the previous night. Though they still couldn't make love fully, he'd turned to her for comfort twice in the night. It wasn't the selfish taking from her that he'd done so much over the last year, it was quite different, something that made her feel closer to him than she'd ever felt before. Arthur had given and given of himself through the night, holding her in a way that was almost desperate in its intensity, touching her in a way that made her feel like gold in his hands, while the look in his eyes branded her as his. When he was coming down from the climax she'd taken him to, his body quivering and trembling in her arms, while his heated breath panted against her skin, sending rivulets of desire to dance with the dying embers of her own orgasm, he whispered her name in her ear. "My Guinevere," he said, his voice filled with wonder, as if it had just sunk in that she was his.

"Always, Arthur," she whispered back, stroking his hair, his cheek. "Forever."

"It does matter," Arthur said firmly, bringing Guinevere back to the present. "I've kept you awake half the night, you know I have. You'll be shattered later, you look tired now."

"Do I look that bad?" Guinevere asked, deliberately keeping her voice light and smiling at the heavy frown forming on his face. The truth was, she was exhausted, but she didn't want him worrying about it, not today.

Arthur's frown slipped away and his eyes filled with reverence. "You look beautiful to me, you always do."

"Well then," Guinevere sighed contentedly, her skin heating as Arthur worshipped her with his eyes. Breaking the moment between them, she looked up at the clock on the wall. "I suppose we'd better get the children up soon. We've got to get them to Gwaine and Sefa before we go and pick up your father. We'll have to go out quite early if we are going to get through the traffic in town to get to the bank on time."

"Leave them for a few minutes," Arthur leaned closer to Guinevere. Without appearing to even think about it, he inhaled her scent. "Let them have a few more minutes sleep. Come here and kiss me first."

Some time later, Guinevere and Arthur had got the children up. They'd all had breakfast, or rather the children had. Guinevere had put a small amount of cereal in a dish and had picked at it disinterestedly, while she watched Arthur struggle through eating a quarter of a piece of toast before he gave up and sat looking at the rest of the toast on the tea plate in front of him as if it had offended him in some deep and personal way.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" Amhar asked, her eyes moving curiously between Arthur and Guinevere's exhausted and agitated expressions.

Distracted from glowering at his toast, Arthur turned to his daughter. "What was that, Princess?" Guinevere watched the light come on behind his eyes when he spoke to Amhar and felt relieved. From the way he'd been glaring at the remainder of his breakfast she was worried for a moment he might snap and the last thing they needed today was to have to deal with the drama of a temper tantrum from their daughter if Arthur had upset her.

"I said, what's the matter?" Amhar addressed her father again, studying his face carefully before her eyes flicked to Guinevere. "You and Mummy look poorly and you've eaten less than me, look!" she showed him her breakfast plate, which just held a small piece of toast for her to finish. For once she'd eaten quite quickly, Guinevere thought, watching the father and daughter exchange.

To Guinevere's surprise, Amhar ate the rest of her breakfast very quickly, before Arthur could formulate a response to her question. She asked permission to get down from the table, but instead of going into the family room when Guinevere said she could get down, Amhar went to her father and put her arms around him as he sat at the table. Caught by surprise, it took him a second to react, but when he did, he edged his seat back slightly and picked Amhar up, sitting her in his lap. Snuggling against him, her tight blonde curls catching on his unshaven chin, she wrapped her arms around him again.

"What's all this?" Arthur said, eyeing Guinevere but speaking to Amhar. "What have I done to deserve a cuddle at breakfast time?" Guinevere shook her head, but she knew Amhar must have picked up on the atmosphere that morning. Amhar never gave out hugs and kisses lightly, there had to be a reason. Though she worshipped the ground her father walked on and she loved goodnight kisses from him and held his hand at any opportunity she had, it was a rare thing for her to sit in his lap and snuggle up in the way she was. The sight almost brought a lump to Guinevere's throat and she could see Arthur seemed to be having a little trouble swallowing all of a sudden.

"Nuffink," Amhar said decisively, drawing a watery smile from her father at her pronunciation of the word. "But I like cuddles when I'm poorly and I thought you would too, are you better now?"

Arthur inhaled the baby-like scent of his daughter's curls and sighed. "Yes, my sweetheart, I'm much better now, thank you." He hugged her against him and dropped a kiss in her hair until she let him go and climbed out of his lap.

When her daughter was back on her feet, Guinevere turned her attention to her. "Darling, will you be a big girl for me and go upstairs to clean your teeth and wash your face and hands? Remember, you and Llacheu are going to spend some time with Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa today while Mummy and Daddy do something important. I'll be up in a moment to see how you are getting on, but if you can go and get started like a big girl it would be a big help."

"All right Mummy." With one last kiss on her father's cheek that took him completely by surprise, Amhar left the room. A moment later it sounded like a herd of elephants were charging up the stairs, not one small little girl.

"No running on the stairs!" Arthur called out, reminding Amhar of one of the rules they'd put in place since both of the children had been able to get up and down the stairs on their own. He smiled brightly when the stomping of Amhar's feet against the wooden staircase stopped, only for it to become a heavy thudding sound above their heads when she reached the top of the stairs and made her way to the bathroom.

When Arthur and Guinevere were alone with their son, he turned to them both, his eyes solemn. "What's really wrong?" Llacheu asked, sounding much older than his years. "Amhar's a baby, but I'll be six soon. "Is something wrong with Grandad or Grandpa, is that why you both look so tired and white, is it something bad?"

Guinevere saw the way Llacheu's top lip wobbled ominously and reached over to hug him tightly. "No, my darling," she said quickly, running her fingers through his hair before he eased himself out of her arms and sat upright to look at her face seriously. "Grandad and Grandpa are both fine, I promise, in fact your Dad and I will be seeing Grandpa later, he's coming with us while you and Amhar go to Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa's house."

"Why can't I come with you?" Llacheu suddenly sounded like his age again. "Why can't Amhar go to see Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa while I come with you? I'm a big boy now, I'd be good, honest."

"I know you'd be good darling, you usually are," Guinevere sighed, taken completely by surprise by Llacheu's mood. He was usually so sensible, she mused thoughtfully. He was never cheeky in the way Amhar could be at times, he never whined or threw tantrums, he never had, even as a baby, he never answered back if he was told to do something. He was thoughtful and kind. Even if he had his father and grandfather's competitive streak, he channelled it into his love of sport, especially football. His behaviour was often much older than his years, but just occasionally, when he was worried, his real age would show. Now it was written all over his face.

"Don't you want to go to Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa's house, it might be fun?" Guinevere tried lifting the mood. "I'm sure Uncle Gwaine will find you lots of fun things to do. Auntie Sefa isn't working today, she mentioned something about taking you and Amhar out somewhere."

"I want to go with you, please Mum," Llacheu's lip was wobbling again and tears began to shine in his eyes. "I'll be a good boy, please."

"Listen Champ," Arthur said, having cleared his throat so that he could speak. He'd watched Llacheu almost pleading with his mother, his insides twisting painfully with guilt and shame. This was his fault, he told himself reproachfully. The tears glistening in his son's eyes were his fault. "Come here a minute."

Though Arthur's voice was quiet, Llacheu stood up from the table and moved reluctantly towards him, obviously thinking he was about to be told off. Instead, when he reached his father, Arthur pulled him on to his lap, groaning playfully at the extra weight he carried compared to Amhar. Llacheu chuckled for a moment, but then his face fell again when he was sitting across Arthur's legs.

"Can you remember," Arthur chose his words carefully, "when your Mum was in the hospital, how much you helped me?"

Llacheu nodded and sighed bashfully, a hint of colour rising in his cheeks when he realised he was suddenly the centre of attention. "I helped you to find Mum's things for the hospital, I didn't help very much."

"You helped me a lot," Arthur said, his eyes meeting Guinevere's across the table. She was blinking away a few tears. He could see how much Llacheu's unusual behaviour was affecting her. He knew how she felt because he felt it too, a physical pain around his heart when he thought of how much their anxiety and agitation was bothering both of the children. "You helped me find Mum's things, and then you helped me find George for Amhar, as well as her night things, before you even thought of finding anything for yourself. You helped me a lot Llacheu, I couldn't have managed half as well without you that day. I had no idea what to sort out for your Mum, or for Amhar. You helped me a lot, but now I need to ask you to help me again, if you can. I know you don't really want to go to Uncle Gwaine and Auntie Sefa's house, but you would really help me a lot if you would go anyway."

Arthur looked up at Guinevere, who nodded her encouragement to him before he turned his attention back to Llacheu in his arms. "I know you would rather come with your Mum and me today, but as much as I'd love you to come, you really can't, Champ. Your Mum and I really do have someone important to see with Grandpa, someone who might able to give us a bit of help with a few things. That's why your Mum and I are a bit tired this morning, we're both a little bit nervous about the way it will go today, so you would really be helping us a lot, both of us, if you would go and be with Auntie Sefa and Uncle Gwaine, it would mean we wouldn't have to worry about you as well."

"Will you be back later?" Llacheu's eyes switched rapidly, anxiously, between both of his parents.

"Of course," Guinevere cried, shocked. She suddenly realised what was bothering Llacheu so much. He'd picked up on how tense she and Arthur were and he'd convinced himself they were going to disappear, or something else equally awful she couldn't even begin to imagine. "We'll be home again a bit later this afternoon, I promise." She blinked back tears again as she spoke. "We'll either pick you and Amhar up when you are ready to come home, or, if Auntie Sefa does take you and Amhar out somewhere, she'll bring you home when you are ready. Either way, we'll be back Llacheu, I promise."

"Okay," Llacheu conceded reluctantly, "but can we do something nice later?"

"What would you like to do?" Arthur asked slightly warily, wondering what he was about to be talked in to.

Llacheu considered for a moment and then his eyes lit up. "Can we watch a DVD and have dinner on our laps? We haven't done that for a long time."

Guinevere smiled at the change in Llacheu's expression and nodded at his simple request. "How about, while I'm in town with your Dad and Grandpa, I pick up a pizza and some fries from the shops? I could get a bottle of fizzy pop too, just as a treat, and maybe some pop corn, and if your Dad is very good," she winked at Arthur and he grinned mock innocently at her, "we might even get some ice cream."

Llacheu nodded excitedly and then he got down from his father's lap and went to hug his mother tightly before doing the same with Arthur. "Should I go upstairs now?" he asked, looking much more like his usual self again.

"Yes, that's a good idea, we need to be getting a move on," Guinevere smiled benevolently at her son. "Go upstairs darling and check on Amhar for me, just to see what she's up to, and then go and clean your teeth and wash your face and hands, okay?"

Llacheu nodded and then turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.

When Llacheu had left the room, both Arthur and Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief. "I never expected that from Llacheu," Guinevere admitted, still shocked by how upset he'd been at first. "I thought both of them were over feeling insecure because we've both been around so much lately."

"I suppose they can both see how tired we are this morning," Arthur sighed, still feeling guilty. "I'm starting to wish I'd never gone into construction. If I hadn't we wouldn't be in this mess now and I wouldn't have messed up our children."

"Don't be silly," Guinevere frowned, standing up and beginning to clear the breakfast table. "You haven't messed them up. They've just picked up on our mood this morning, that's all. They never miss a thing Arthur, you know as well as I do they don't, but they'll get to Sefa and Gwaine's and they'll be fine. We'll get Sefa to keep an eye on them, but I bet you they'll be fine."

"Mmm," Arthur said, non-committally. "We'll have to start being a bit more careful around them. They shouldn't have to worry about anything, not at their age."

"We can't shield them from all of the realities of life, Arthur," Guinevere sighed, beginning to put their uneaten breakfasts in the kitchen bin and all of the dishes in the sink. "We can protect them from some things and it's right that we should, but the reality is that our lives will have to change quite a bit for a while, even if today goes as we want. We can keep some of it from the children and we will, but we are going to have to economise wherever we can and make a lot of changes, so the children are bound to feel it at some stage, it can't be helped, they can't be shielded from everything."

"Can you blame me for wanting to try though?" Arthur asked, getting to his feet. "My childhood was one long worry, Guinevere. I was afraid my father would disappear overnight like my mother did. I was always worried the latest nanny would forget to come and pick me up from school every day. If there was something, anything, for me to worry about as a child, I worried about it and I just don't want that for our children, so when I think about the fact that this situation now is my fault, I..." He shook his head, lost for words to explain the shame he felt.

Turning from putting the breakfast things in the sink, Guinevere moved towards Arthur and slipped her arms around his waist. "You need to stop blaming yourself, Arthur, I mean it," she eyed him seriously. "There's no point in beating yourself up about what has happened, we just have to get on with now, all of us, together."

Arthur sighed heavily. "I know, but if I'd just..."

"We could go over all the ifs and buts of life, Arthur," Guinevere placed her fingertips over his lips to stop his flow of self recrimination. "But there's no point," her tone softened. "I know you want to protect the children, I do too, but we can't protect them from everything. All we can do is get on with our lives and give them all the love and security they need. As long as we do that they'll be fine."

An hour later or so later, Arthur was standing in the kitchen wearing a blue summer suit that was one of Guinevere's favourites. He'd thought about wearing black, but he already felt like he was about to walk to his own funeral, he didn't want to add to the feeling. As he stood, waiting for Guinevere to come downstairs with the children, Arthur felt his nerves jangling. Try as he might to persuade himself he wasn't nervous, he knew he was lying. His stomach had been in knots all morning and he felt almost ready to jump out of his own skin. He could feel his heart pounding. He tried to look at the clock while he took a deep breath to steady himself, but watching the time ticking away made him feel worse, so he passed the time by looking out of the kitchen window, down the driveway of their home, the small front garden that looked neat and tidy in the sunshine, and prayed to any deity he could think of that they would get to keep it.

A short time later Arthur was distracted from his thoughts when Guinevere walked into the room with the children in tow. Both of the children were dressed in shorts and t-shirts, while Guinevere wore a simple but elegant black and white patterned short sleeved dress that reached to just above her knees. She accompanied the dress, which went in slightly just above the waist and showed off her figure without being over the top, with a pair of black heels and a small black handbag, along with a plain pair of silver earrings and a matching necklace. As a finishing touch, she'd tied her hair up in a loose bun and applied a small amount of light make-up.

"I had no idea what to wear," she smiled awkwardly when Arthur looked her up and down, his eyes glowing in a way she knew so well. "I mean, what do you wear to see a bank manager?"

"You look beautiful," Arthur allowed a warm smile to creep over his features. "He'll take one look at you and we'll probably get anything we want, in fact, I might just leave all the talking to you."

"I don't know about that," Guinevere smiled shyly. "The dress is supposed to be a zebra pattern, but it looks more like black and white random swirls to me."

"I wasn't talking about the dress," Arthur's gaze still lingered. Guinevere could almost feel his eyes on her. "I was talking about you."

Guinevere allowed Arthur to look her up and down a couple of times, glad she'd been able to distract him for a moment. She'd taken longer than usual to pick an outfit to wear. Though she wanted to look smart, to look respectful of the gravity of their situation when they saw the bank manager, she didn't want to appear too lavish, as if she had a habit of squandering money they didn't have on clothes. In the end she'd grabbed a dress out of the wardrobe she'd had for a couple of years, though she'd kept it mostly for special occasions. Judging by the look on Arthur's face, it had been the right choice.

Guinevere had steered the children to the kitchen table as soon as they walked into the room, and they sat down, under instruction to keep clean. They sat at the table in silence now, apparently unaware of the looks their father was giving their mother, but aware of the passing time suddenly, she looked up at the clock. "I think we'd better be making a move, we don't want to hit the traffic, do we?"

The nerves Arthur had managed to forget for a moment crashed back over him. All of a sudden it felt like his heart was wedged in the back of his throat and his stomach fluttered anxiously. "Let's go and get it over with." He sighed heavily and followed Guinevere and the children out to the car.

Some time later, having navigated through the busiest time of the morning on the roads, Arthur and Guinevere guided the children out of the car outside Gwaine and Sefa's small terraced house in one of the old parts of Winchester. Gwaine and Sefa didn't have a drive, so Arthur had to park in the road outside the house. It meant that for safety, because the road outside the house could be busy, Guinevere got out of the car first and guided the children out through the same passenger door.

The journey from home had been unusually quiet. Even the children never asked any questions or did anything that might break the tension in the car. The radio had come on when Arthur started the engine, but he'd turned it off quickly, submerging all of them in a silence that seemed almost painful.

Opening the low wrought iron gate that led to the front garden, which consisted of nothing more than a small patch of grass, a neat flowerbed and a short path that led to the doorstep, Guinevere guided the children just in front of her and rang the doorbell. Arthur stood close behind her, radiating the tension he was doing his best to hide in front of the children.

A moment later the front door opened and Gwaine greeted them, a twinkle in his eyes. "If it isn't my other two favourite girls, my favourite young man," he reached out and ruffled Llacheu's hair playfully, "and you," he smirked at Arthur, though he shook his hand amiably and patted him on the back.

Arthur rolled his eyes. His best friend was obviously in a good mood. "I'll ignore that and say thanks for doing this, it's a big help."

"Forget it," Gwaine said, shaking his head. "What are godfather's for...well, except running mafia gangs and I don't think Sefa would fancy being a gangster's moll, do you?"

They walked through the front door straight into a narrow hallway painted in a neutral colour, where just a few pictures were hung on the walls, along with a decorative mirror that made the tight space seem a bit bigger and reflected a small amount light. Just off the hallway, to the right, there was a staircase. Arthur had sold enough of these sorts of properties through the years to know that the staircase led to another equally narrow hallway upstairs, two bedrooms and a small bathroom that wouldn't even have existed when the house was built, probably about ninety years ago, but it had been added at some stage, taking some space away from one of the bedrooms. Meanwhile, on the left of the downstairs hallway there was a living room that was about half the size of Arthur and Guinevere's. On the end of the hallway, at the back of the house, there was a kitchen that was only just big enough for two or three people to get into at the same time. Knowing Gwaine and Sefa were considering adopting a child, if they were accepted to do so, Arthur wondered how they would manage in the tight space they had available. Though he kept quiet about it, he made a mental note to discreetly start looking for reasonably priced properties he could point out to Gwaine at some stage.

"Who's a gangster's moll?" Sefa emerged from the kitchen at the back of the house, smiling widely at Guinevere and Arthur to greet them. In the tight space of the hallway she pushed past Gwaine, who smirked and winked at her cheekily when their bodies brushed past each other, then she hugged Guinevere tightly and kissed her and Arthur on the cheek quickly, before slipping her arms around Amhar and Llacheu and hugging them against her. "For goodness sake Gwaine," she chided her husband in a way that didn't sound very playful when she released the children from her arms, but the light in her eyes gave her away. "You haven't even invited them in properly, what were you thinking!"

Arthur forced a smile to his lips and shook his head. Sefa came across as sweet-natured and kind, and she was in a lot of ways. He still remembered how helpful she'd been when Guinevere had her breakdown and was ill after Gwydre died. He knew he wouldn't have coped with looking after Guinevere, dressing her, bathing her, feeding her because she just couldn't, or maybe wouldn't, do it for herself, if it hadn't been for Sefa and he knew he would always be grateful. Still, beneath her kindness, Sefa also managed to keep Gwaine in line. As much as his best friend adored his wife, Arthur had the distinct feeling he was also frightened to death of her. The thought widened the smile on Arthur's lips for a moment.

"It's all right," Arthur's smile slipped away when the thought of why they were leaving Llacheu and Amhar with Gwaine and Sefa for a while came to mind again and his heart sank. "I don't like to cut and run, but we really need to be getting on. We've got to go and pick up my father before we head into town to the bank."

Sefa nodded and then turned her attention to Llacheu and Amhar for a moment. "Why don't you two go with Uncle Gwaine into the kitchen? There's some biscuits in the cupboard. There's plenty of milk in the fridge too, and then, when Uncle Gwaine goes out to the restaurant, I wondered if you might like to go swimming with me? There's an outdoor pool you might like not too far away, and as its a nice day you wouldn't get cold."

Amhar had been wary of water when she was a bit younger and had clung to Arthur on the few occasions they'd taken the children swimming, but eventually she'd gained her confidence and loved the water every bit as much as her brother, who loved anything sporty. Still, though Amhar's face lit up eagerly, Llacheu turned to his mother for her approval. Though he hadn't said a word and he would never be openly rude, Guinevere knew he was still less than keen on staying with Sefa and Gwaine, not because he didn't like them, she knew very well he thought of Gwaine almost as a second father, but because he was still picking up on how tense she and Arthur were.

Dragging a bright smile to her lips, Guinevere slipped an arm around her son. "You love swimming, don't you? An outdoor pool will be something new for you to try." She released Llacheu to go into her bag and pulled out her keys. "I didn't know what Auntie Sefa had in mind for you today, so I didn't prepare your swimming things, but Auntie Sefa can have my keys." Guinevere eyed Sefa as she spoke and the other woman nodded, taking the keys from her. "Then all you need to do is pick up your swimming things from home, you know where they are and you can help yourselves to any of the towels. You can show Auntie Sefa where the airing cupboard is at home, we keep all the fresh towels in there, don't we? You'll have a lovely day and then Dad and I will see you later." Guinevere and Arthur hugged both of the children quickly, trying not to make too much fuss that might unsettle them further, and then, jollying the children along, Gwaine guided them towards the kitchen.

Guinevere released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when the children disappeared. Sensing her feelings because he felt the same, Arthur slipped an arm around her. "Will you keep a bit of an eye on Llacheu?" Guinevere asked, turning anxious eyes on Sefa. "He's fine really, he loves you and Gwaine, but he's a bit...Both of them have picked up on how edgy Arthur and I are and..." She stopped talking abruptly, knowing that if she continued she would be in tears. She felt Arthur's arm tighten around her and leaned in to him a little.

Sefa nodded sympathetically, her heart going out to her friends. She'd sensed their mood from the moment she'd seen them, it was written all over their drawn, tired faces. Gwaine had explained the little he knew about what they were facing. Remembering how good Gwen had been to her when she started at Camelot Care, the agency they both worked at as carers, she was keen to help all she could. "I'll keep an eye on both of them, don't you worry. I'll drive them over to your place later to pick up their things and then I'll take them swimming. The place is only about 20 miles away, not too far. We can have some lunch while we're out. I'll make sure they eat something healthy. I'll drop them back to you around fiveish this evening, okay?"

"Thanks for this Sefa, I really mean it," Arthur said seriously. "Let me know how much you spend on the children today and I'll reimburse you."

"Now just you forget that sort of talk, Arthur Pendragon," Sefa almost glared at him before her manner softened. "It'll be nice to spend the day with them, it'll be a treat for me as much as anything, so just keep your money to yourself, you hear me?"

"Sorry Sefa," Arthur gave in quickly, suddenly realising why Gwaine probably had good reason to be a bit frightened of his wife. She could look stern when she wanted to. "I didn't mean any offence."

"None taken, I'm sure," she gifted Guinevere and Arthur with a warm smile again. "Now, are you two all right, if you don't mind me saying so, you both look shattered."

"We'll be all right later," Guinevere nodded thoughtfully. "Once we've seen the bank manager and we know exactly where we stand, we'll be fine. It's just the not knowing that's so difficult, isn't it?" She turned to Arthur and he nodded in agreement.

"Well, don't you go worrying about Llacheu and Amhar," Sefa hugged both of her friends. "They'll be fine with me for a few hours and it'll give me some practice for spending time with kids if we ever get to adopt."

"Is there any news on that?" Guinevere asked, glad for a chance to turn the conversation onto a subject that might be a bit happier.

Sefa shook her head, but to Guinevere's surprise she didn't look too downcast. "Not just yet. It's such a long process though, Gwen. It could be six months before we even know if we've been accepted to adopt. If we are, we then have to be matched to a child and that can take a while, but hopefully the wait will be worth it. We both know we probably won't get a baby, but the chance of being able to bring some happiness to a child and become a proper family would be worth it."

"Of course it would," Guinevere nodded thoughtfully. "You'll get there Sefa, I know it."

With one more quick hug to their friend and a called out "see you later!" to the children, who were now sitting in the kitchen eating chocolate biscuits and drinking a glass of milk each with their father's best friend, Guinevere and Arthur made their way out to the car.

By the time Arthur and Guinevere left Gwaine and Sefa's house, the early morning traffic was beginning to ease a little. Still, when they reached Uther's house he was standing on his doorstep waiting for them. As Arthur pulled his car to a halt he saw his father glancing at his watch, looking edgy. He silently reminded himself he was getting on better with his father now, they'd had the past out between them and they were moving on. Picking a fight with him today over keeping him waiting wouldn't help any of them.

Guinevere and Arthur climbed out of the car and Uther walked towards them. He was dressed in a dark grey suit and tie. He had an immaculately folded white handkerchief in his breast pocket and his tie was so straight, it appeared to have been lined up with a ruler, while the black shoes on his feet gleamed in the sunlight.

"You look lovely, my dear," Uther gave Guinevere a brief hug and kissed her on the cheek.

Guinevere smiled and acknowledged her father in law's compliment. "You don't look so bad yourself. How long were you polishing your shoes to get them looking like that?"

"Only a little while," Uther grinned good-naturedly, knowing Guinevere was teasing him gently. "I'm not used to polishing my shoes this days," the smile on his face became more thoughtful. "I think this is the first time I've done it since I retired."

"Well, you've done a good job," Guinevere looked down at the sparkling shoes again. "We might have to get you to teach the children how to do it when we have to coax them out of trainers when school starts again."

Uther's smile widened at what Guinevere said, and then he turned his attention to Arthur, his face straightening. "Are you all right?"

Arthur noted his father's concerned tone and any irritation he felt over catching him glancing at his watch vanished. "I'm all right," he confirmed, nodding slightly, and then he took a deep breath before speaking again. "Or rather, I'll be all right later, when we get today over with."

Uther looked at his son. He could see the tiredness around his eyes, the slightly pale skin. "It'll be fine," he tried to sound confident without sounding condescending. "I know you've never owed anyone anything in your life, Arthur, so today seems daunting. You wouldn't be human if you weren't concerned, but you will get through this," he turned his attention to Guinevere too. "You will _both_ get through this."

Arthur nodded and then he glanced at his watch. "I think we'd better get moving," he opened the car door on the driver's side again, addressing his father. "The traffic had eased off a bit when we dropped the children off at Gwaine and Sefa's, but I noticed you were looking at your watch when we got to you, so maybe we need to make a move." He tried to keep his voice light, as if he was making an inconsequential comment, but he had to admit to himself, the time was getting on, so maybe his father had been right to worry about the time.

"Oh, that," Uther shook his head dismissively. He sensed something in Arthur's tone and wondered if his son had thought his glance at his watch when they pulled up on the drive was intended as a criticism. He pushed the thought away, knowing this wasn't the day for over thinking anything. "Actually, I think my watch has stopped or something. I hate not knowing the right time, what time do you make it?"

Arthur felt badly for prejudging his father, being too ready to assume his father had meant to criticise in some way when he was looking at his watch so seriously, but he kept quiet. He'd always had to analyse everything Uther said and did, knowing most of his words and actions had double meanings in the past. Perhaps it would take a while to really adjust to his father saying what he meant and not having ulterior motives for his every action.

"It's twenty five past ten," Guinevere said, turning her wrist gracefully to look at her own watch, before speaking to Arthur. "What time are we meeting the bank manager?"

"Some time around 11am," Arthur replied, standing in the open doorway of the driver's side of the car. "When I spoke to the bank they said he had an important meeting before we see him, so they asked if we would mind waiting a bit, but they said he should be available to see us around 11am, so we might want to get going. We don't want to be late if the traffic builds up in town again."

"An important meeting is usually a euphemism for a coffee break," Uther said, shaking his head.

"It always was with you," Arthur dead-panned dryly, getting back into the car before his father could formulate a reply.

Guinevere and Uther exchanged a smile, both of them glad to hear Arthur sounding more like his usual self than he had so far that morning.

When Arthur had pulled off his father's driveway and into the main road, Guinevere looked into the wing mirror to speak to Uther, who sat on the end of the back passenger seat, next to Llacheu and Amhar's empty car seats. "You should have sat in the front, I could have sat in the back. You don't have much room there. I didn't think, perhaps we should have taken the children's car seats out and left them at your house until later."

Uther shook his head, grateful for Guinevere's thoughtfulness, but unwilling to make a fuss. "It's fine, my dear, there's plenty of room. You didn't want to be messing around taking the car seats out today, it's fine. How are the children?"

Guinevere sighed thoughtfully. "I think they are as edgy as us this morning." She shook her head sadly, and Arthur, seeing her movement in the corner of his eye, though his focus was on the busy road ahead, released a hand from the steering wheel, reached over and gripped one of her hands for a moment. He felt Guinevere squeeze back and the nerves that were beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach again eased for a second. He gave her fingers a loving caress and then he slowly released her hand again, returning his hand to the steering wheel.

"I think they've picked up on our mood," Guinevere went on, when Arthur let go of her hand. His hand was cold, she noted.

Guinevere's mind went back through the years, all the way to her wedding day, to the moment her Dad walked her down the aisle towards Arthur. When her Dad, standing at her side, looking at her like he was only giving her up with the greatest reluctance and he'd be equally happy to turn right around and walk her straight back to the church doors and out into the cool September air, despite how much he liked Arthur, handed her over, Arthur had immediately held his hand out to her. As soon as she'd reached him his eyes had been on her, looking at her like she was a priceless jewel he couldn't quite believe was being placed in his hands and he would get to keep. She'd taken his hand, smiled at him, knowing immediately he was nervous. She knew then he would deny it, he rarely admitted to any sort of frailty, but still, she knew and it made her love him even more. Arthur was always warm. Every time he touched her, every time he took her hand in his and dropped a kiss into her palm, her favourite gesture of affection from him, he was never cold. Sometimes, when he held her, she wondered why he was always so warm, but on her wedding day his hands were as cold as ice. It was a giveaway of his nervousness.

"They'll be all right," Uther said, his eyes warm with affection for his grandchildren. "They'll be fine and so will both of you."

As Arthur navigated the car through the busy streets, silence descended on them again. Arthur kept his eyes on the road, apart from occasional glances at Guinevere through the corner of his eye. She looked through the windscreen, watching shoppers as they went about their business, apparently without a worry in the world. She wanted to feel resentful of these unknown faces who seemed to be having such a good day while she and Arthur were feeling such turmoil, but she couldn't. It was good to know there was some normality in the world, she thought, even on a day that had the potential to change the lives of all the people she loved most for the foreseeable future. Uther sat in the back of the car, the image of calmness and serenity, but as Guinevere looked back into the wing mirror to look at his face, she caught him glancing at Arthur a number of times, a frown line across the bridge of his nose appearing and she sensed the concern he was doing his best to hide.

Eventually Arthur pulled the car to a halt outside a two-storey building built from a mixture of red brick and grey stone. Built just above the street level, the bank had two steps that led into the building. The main entrance was built into the corner of the building, made of thick dark wood with a row of six small windows at the top. A row of eight sash windows on the side of the building, four in the top portion of the building, four at the lower level, gave the appearance that perhaps it had been a large town-house at some stage in its history.

The three of them got out of the car and Arthur locked it securely. As he turned away from the car Guinevere took his hand in hers. She didn't say a word, but gifted him with a reassuring smile. Bolstered by her presence, he walked with her towards the steps leading into the bank, while his father followed behind at a discreet distance.

Making his way towards the front desk, which sat adjacent to where three female members of staff sat behind glass panels, dealing with customers everyday banking, Arthur acknowledged a young man with collar-length, untidy dark hair and the beginning of what appeared to be an attempt to grow a moustache above his top lip, but it was so fine and indistinct, it looked like he just hadn't shaved properly for a while. Every so often the young man shook his head to brush the long fringe of his thick hair out of his eyes.

"I... _We_ ," Arthur corrected himself, glancing at Guinevere by his side, "have come to see the manager." He kept his voice low, not wanting everyone in the place to know all of his business. "It's about our mortgage. The name is Pendragon."

The young man nodded behind the desk. "I'll just see if he's available to see you, if you can just wait here for a moment?" Arthur was surprised by the young man's efficient tone. It completely contradicted his unkempt appearance. He wore a short sleeved shirt that looked as if it had been white at some stage, but now it was a dirty shade of grey. Around his neck he wore a dark blue tie that wasn't quite straight and had a small stain of some description on the front, right where it would be the first thing a customer saw when they looked at him. Arthur knew because he'd been looking at it for the last couple of minutes, trying to work out what it was.

The young man disappeared through a door behind the desk and Arthur's heart rate went up a notch again. He could feel the beginning of a headache developing behind his eyes, but he was distracted from thinking about it when his father edged closer behind him and muttered something that sounded like "I wouldn't have paid him to scrub floors for me, the state of him!"

"He sounded polite," Guinevere said, obviously hearing her father in law. "Perhaps he lives on his own and doesn't know how to do his laundry properly."

Arthur smiled in spite of himself, his heart lifting at his wife's ability to see the best in everyone. He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

The untidy young man reappeared a moment or two after Guinevere had squeezed Arthur's hand back before releasing it slowly. She smiled reassuringly again just as the young man walked back through the door behind the desk and lifted a flap. "Please, come this way," the young man said, in the same polite, efficient tone he'd used before. "The manager will see you now."

Arthur stood back and allowed Guinevere to go first through the space the young man had created behind the desk. His father followed him and they went through the heavy door that separated the main part of the bank from its administrative area. The noise and hubbub of the bank vanished when the door clicked shut behind Uther, making Arthur feel as if time had stopped around them.

The young man led the way up an ornate dark oak staircase. The walls were lined by a heavily patterned wallpaper, though some of it was obscured by oil paintings of bank managers through its history, all of them looking austere and stern.

At the top of the staircase, the young man led them through another heavy door and then down a length of corridor. They followed him until he turned left, into what appeared to be a waiting room where the walls were lined with thick panels in some sort of dark wood. Plastic chairs lined the walls and a coffee table was in the centre of the room, covered in magazines of various types. At the end of the room was a door with a name and MANAGER in gold capital letters on the front.

"The manager will call you shortly," the young man said, before turning on his heel and leaving them alone.

Uther picked up one of the magazines on the coffee table and sat down in one of the plastic seats, opening his jacket to make himself comfortable. He leafed through the magazine idly, clearly not really reading it, but Arthur could see his father was attempting to be invisible in the room and was touched by his discretion.

Arthur didn't quite know what to do with himself. As soon as the thought went through his mind, he knew it wasn't true. He knew exactly what he _wanted_ to do. He wanted to pace, to walk up and down to pass the time before the door directly in front of him as he stood in the waiting room, opened. Resisting the temptation, he stood still, his hands at his sides, his eyes staring resolutely at that door.

Arthur's view of the door was suddenly blocked when Guinevere sidled over and stood in front of him. "Are you all right?" She asked the question in a voice that wasn't much more than a whisper, while her hands went to his shoulders and brushed at something.

Though he couldn't see what she was attempting to brush away, Arthur was grateful for her touch and heaved a sigh. "I'm all right, you?" he asked, attempting to focus on her face instead of the door behind her.

"I'm fine," Guinevere replied, her voice a little higher than usual, before a wry smile crossed her lips. "We're both rotten liars, aren't we?"

Arthur released a soft huff of laughter. "Terrible."

Guinevere's smile slipped away and her hands stilled on Arthur's shoulders. "Just remember one thing for me."

"What?" Arthur asked, knowing he would do anything she asked of him.

"Just remember, _wild horses_." She smiled at him hesitantly and he saw her nervousness, but he also saw the way she was trying to be strong for him. Remembering her words from the previous night, Arthur knew in a moment what she was trying to tell him. Just when he thought he couldn't love her more, she went and proved him wrong, he thought, resisting the temptation to take her in his arms by sheer force of will.

"I don't think I could have done this today without you," he admitted softly, taking her left hand from his shoulder and holding it in his, his fingers caressing her wedding ring.

"Just as well you don't have to then, isn't it?" she replied, gazing into his eyes meaningfully.

The moment was shattered when the door at the end of the room suddenly opened. "Mr. Pendragon?" The bank manager stood in the doorway. "Will you come this way?"


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N As always, I have to thank those of you who left such thoughtful reviews, especially given that I admitted that this story has been a struggle for me at times. Your encouragement means a great deal to me and it will see me through to the end of this.**

 **One reviewer asked me if I have another Arthur and Guinevere story in mind. I have to confess I do, sort of, but it is a very rough idea that has been slowly developing in my mind for a time. Without giving too much away, I want to write something based around the end of Merlin. I'm sure what happens in the end goes without saying and that is my difficulty. I want to explore the idea of what has become known as the five stages of grief and do it through Guinevere's eyes, so you will have a major pointer there for what I intend to write about, the death of a hugely significant character, one I enjoy writing because in my head at least, he has flaws and weaknesses, strengths and principles I enjoy toying with. I also quite like writing male perspective stories somehow, which is probably odd because I'm not a man.**

 **My difficulty lies in when to set the story I have in mind. In my head originally it is set in the Merlin series timeline, after Camlaan. However, my muse is getting the idea that it might be fun, albeit challenging fun, to give the story a modern twist, make it effectively a third part of this timeline, to go with Six Weeks To Midnight and The Wolf At The Door. I'm recoiling from it slightly because it would mean inflicting more on my version of Guinevere, but the idea is beginning to form into a story that won't go away, so I'm asking for your opinions now. When would you like another story set? Modern or series based, albeit with a twist from me? I could try to influence you, but I won't, except to say that either way Guinevere wouldn't end up with Lancelot, and her children, if you wanted the story set in modern times, would not still be children, they would be young adults. That all said, it is entirely your choice. Let me know in your reviews. Now, before I get hopelessly distracted, we will move on in the present with Arthur and Guinevere.**

 **Just one final thought on this chapter. In Six Weeks To Midnight I gave the impression that the switch from Uther running my fictional Pendragon Homes to Arthur taking over was smooth and easy. However, careful readers of this will know that I've dropped several hints about Uther leaving a mess that Arthur had to sort out. You will find out in this what this mess was. I hope it works. It does in my head.**

Arthur stood back to allow Guinevere to lead the way into the bank manager's office. He followed behind her, leaving his father to bring up the rear. For a moment Arthur was reminded of the times he'd ended up in the headmaster's office at school after the latest of his various escapades with his friends. Somehow he would always end up following Gwaine into the office, his mind already trying to come up with an explanation for his behaviour that would convince his father later, as well as persuading the Headmaster that he wasn't really that bad, while Gwaine swaggered in, head held high, with an expression on his face that clearly said he thought the whole thing was a laugh and he didn't care what anyone else thought.

The bank manager's office was a large, rectangular room with the same dark wood panelling on the walls as the waiting room they'd just left. The walls at the sides of the room were lined with paintings, some depicting significant moments in the bank's history, whilst others depicted moments in the history of Winchester, including a portrait that was clearly a copy, of Mary I marrying Philip of Spain at Winchester Cathedral in 1554.

A huge desk dominated the space in the middle of the room. A black leather office chair sat behind the desk, while similar chairs sat on the other side, waiting to be occupied. On the wall behind the desk was a window that had sections of stained glass and heavy dark wood frames. The sunlight streaming through the window cast colourful patterns on the heavily decorated and ornate white ceiling of the room.

"It's good to see you again, Olaf," Arthur heard his father speak as if he was a long way off when the manager made his way into the room and moved behind his desk. "Don't you recognise me? I knew it was you as soon as I saw your name on the door. How are you?"

Arthur was struck by how cheerful his father sounded and turned to look at him as the bank manager, a stocky looking man with strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes, indicated to the chairs on the other side of the desk. Arthur held Guinevere's chair while she sat down, straightening her dress neatly as she made herself comfortable, while Uther remained standing. Unwilling to sit while his father was still standing, a surprisingly warm smile on his face and his hand outstretched, Arthur hovered by his seat, his mind doing overtime while he tried to place the bank manager as a former business colleague of Pendragon Homes and drew a blank.

The bank manager was about to sit down when Uther spoke. Now he got up quickly and to Arthur's surprise, took his father's hand and pumped it enthusiastically. "Uther Pendragon, as I live and breathe!" he exclaimed heartily. "I would never have recognised you in a million years, you look years younger than when I saw you last!"

Uther smiled broadly, his eyes lighting up in genuine pleasure, while Arthur, beginning to feel superfluous, sat down and exchanged a bemused look with Guinevere. "That would be retirement," Arthur heard his father say, while his face still beamed. "I can highly recommend it, Olaf," Uther went on, his expression becoming more serious. "Work is very overrated."

"Coming from a workaholic like you, that is quite a statement," the bank manager replied thoughtfully. "What happened to bring about such a change?"

Arthur heard his father sigh and watched him shake his head. "Life happened, Olaf," Uther's voice was solemn now. "Or rather, I realised how much life I was missing out on. Arthur," he indicated to his right, where Arthur sat between him and Guinevere, "Arthur took over from me at Pendragon Homes. I have a wonderful daughter in law who I regard as a daughter," Arthur watched as Guinevere bowed her head shyly at her father in law's words, "and I have beautiful grandchildren. I don't need work any more, it's that simple."

"Well I never!" The bank manager exclaimed again, shaking his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. "I'm still working to keep my daughter," he smiled indulgently, but there was a hint of something like exasperation in his voice. "I love her dearly, of course, but she's married now, has a daughter of her own, a five year old she named Twinkle, for goodness sake, but every time she wants something, she comes home to Daddy."

"And Daddy obliges, presumably?" Uther asked, a grin lighting up his face.

"Well, how could I do otherwise?" Olaf asked, an embarrassed flush creeping across his skin. "She's my only daughter, she married a good for nothing waster. If I didn't, Twinkle," he cringed as he said the name, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth, while his eyes told a completely different story about how he felt for his grandchild, "would go without, and I'm not having that."

"You always were a soft touch when it came to your daughter. Remind me, what's her name?" Uther asked, his eyes still bright.

"Vivienne," Olaf sighed affectionately. "Besides, aren't you the same?"

"No, he's not," Arthur cut in, intending the remark to be funny, but then he thought of the money his father was giving him and wished he could take the words back. "I mean..." he spoke awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He didn't want to go into how his father compensated for not being around when he was a child by buying him things. He couldn't bring himself to bring up how, even as he got older, Uther paid for things, his honeymoon for example, as a way of keeping a measure of control over his son, because he wouldn't let himself show the feelings he'd pushed down for years. It was different now, Arthur reminded himself. He knew now, his father was lending him the money to cover what he owed the bank because he loved him. There was no ulterior motive any more.

Uther looked his son in the eye, his mouth still curved into a small smile. "I know what you meant Arthur, forget it."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

With an expression on his face that suggested he thought he'd inadvertently stepped into dangerous ground, Olaf cleared his throat before speaking again. "Right," he clapped his hands together in a businesslike way and sat down in the leather seat behind the desk, leaving Arthur and Uther to take their own seats. "I suppose we'd better get down to business," his gaze turned on Arthur, who found himself sitting up straighter in his seat. "Arthur...do you mind me calling you Arthur?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'd prefer it." His voice came out sounding tight and higher than usual. He felt Guinevere's eyes on him, encouraging him, pushing him on, and took a deep breath. "Arthur is fine," he said more steadily.

"Arthur," Olaf went on. "Would you like to explain to me why you've barely made any payments on your mortgage for the last year and what you propose to do about it?"

Arthur took another deep breath and started to talk. He explained how he'd become involved in construction, the success he'd had with the first few properties he built and how it had led to more offers to build around the country. He explained the difficulties he'd had with getting the money he was owed by local authorities around the country and the issues that had come up with the private developments. "I just didn't have the funds to pay the mortgage and pay all the other bills," he explained, sitting across from Olav uncomfortably as the shame he felt was exposed.

"Why didn't you come and talk to us?" Olav asked, his brow arching. "There are things we can do to help people in your position, but if we don't know, there isn't much we can do to help people who are struggling. Surely you must have known we were trying to get in touch with you, but we never received a reply until you phoned to make this appointment."

Arthur nodded. Reacting instinctively, he bowed his head, embarrassment coursing through him when he thought of all the letters the bank had sent him over the past year bringing his attention to the mortgage repayments and the amount he owed, as well as what might happen if he defaulted on the terms of the mortgage. He'd been away a lot, he'd tried to explain his actions to himself at first, but now he faced the fact that Guinevere had always kept any post he received while he was away for the construction company. Time and time again she'd brought his attention to letters he'd received while he was away. In all their years of marriage she'd never opened his post, not once, so she'd handed over the unopened letters from the bank. Not wanting her to know what the letters contained, he'd always taken them out to the car with him when he left again. To this day there was a pile of unopened post from the bank in his glove compartment in the car.

He raised his head again when he felt Guinevere take his hand and grip it firmly in hers. Bolstered once more by her strength, Arthur looked back at Olaf's face. "I did know the bank was trying to contact me," he admitted, shaking his head when he thought back to how badly he'd dealt with the situation he'd found himself in. "But I was embarrassed. Have you got any idea what it feels like to know you've failed your family, the people you love most in the world?"

"You haven't failed us," Guinevere cut in, shaking her head vehemently. "You've made a mistake, but you haven't failed us."

"I resorted to hiding post from the bank in the car, Guinevere," Arthur said, disgusted with himself and determined to tell her the whole truth now. "In my book, that's a failure." His eyes flicked rapidly between Guinevere, who still sat holding his hand firmly in hers, and the bank manager, who sat impassively waiting for him to explain himself. "I was worried about Pendragon Homes as well," he confessed, deciding it was better to get the whole truth out now. "I thought, if it came out that I was in a mess, it would damage the business and we," he indicated to Guinevere with the hand she wasn't still gripping firmly in her own, "would lose everything."

"Didn't your wife try to persuade you to speak to us?" Olaf asked, speaking to Arthur, but his eyes drifting towards Guinevere, an accusing glint in them Arthur resented.

"Now, look," Arthur would have got to his feet if Guinevere hadn't been holding his hand so tightly. As it was, he remained seated and glared across the desk at Olaf. "Guinevere isn't to blame for any of this. If anyone is at fault, it's me, so..." Arthur's voice rose slightly for the first time.

"I didn't know," Guinevere cut across Arthur's angry defence of her. She squeezed his hand to tell him to calm down, she could speak for herself. She met Olaf's gaze across the desk steadily. "My husband only told me about the situation recently." She didn't want to go into all of the details of how Arthur had told her the truth, it was private, she told herself. It also had nothing to do with the mortgage and what would happen to it. "I've been ill," she explained simply, deciding the bare facts would be enough. "My husband didn't want to worry me."

"I see," Olaf nodded thoughtfully before turning his attention back to Arthur. "Well, you've made a mistake in keeping this to yourself for so long."

"I know that," Arthur conceded, knowing he had no choice but to admit the truth. He felt like he was waiting for the axe to fall on his neck. His heart was racing.

"But," Olaf went on. "You are not the first to come in here and ask for help late in the day. It is a very common occurrence for people, especially men as it happens, to hide the facts of their financial position from their families and friends, but also from anyone who could offer them genuine help and advice before it's too late. I've seen many a man in here in the same position as you. It's as if they get it into their heads that their situation takes away from their masculinity somehow."

Arthur nodded, strangely relieved to know he wasn't alone in the mistake he'd made. Still, he thought, shame coursing through him, he knew better. He should have dealt with things better. He shouldn't have run away from it. "I just thought telling the truth would cost me everything," he admitted, shaking his head while he tried to explain his thinking for months, but as he sat there, Guinevere and his father at his side, the bank manager in front of him, he knew he'd been foolish. "I was worried it would destroy Pendragon Homes. If that happened we would end up with nothing and I would damage a lot of other people besides us. If Pendragon Homes failed, innocent people would lose their jobs. I didn't want that on my conscience on top of failing my own wife and children."

Olaf nodded, a hint of something like sympathy in his eyes. "The bank would never divulge your business with us to your rivals, you do know that, don't you? We've handled Pendragon Homes banking arrangements since your father started the business. You've banked with us personally for a number of years. We are not in the habit of divulging customers financial affairs to all and sundry."

"I realise that now, of course," Arthur said, thinking back over the past year, how afraid he'd been of doing anything that might put Pendragon Homes at risk. "But I wasn't thinking clearly at the time."

"Well I'm glad you've seen the error of your ways now," Olaf said solemnly. "The divorce courts are full of people who have hidden the truth from their loved ones so long, they've only been discovered when we've made moves to repossess their homes."

"Is that going to happen to us?" Arthur asked urgently. "Have I left it too late?" His heart hammered painfully as he spoke. "Are you going to repossess our home?"

"I didn't say that," Olaf replied calmly, meeting Arthur's fearful gaze with equanimity. "But you do have to understand, your mortgage is very large. We would usually only offer a mortgage that is four times the amount of a salary. Yours is much higher than that. On the face of it, I could argue that my predecessor was over generous and somewhat negligent in approving your mortgage in the first place."

"But I had the money then," Arthur said, his mind going back more than five years to when he bought their house. He remembered going to the bank to discuss the mortgage with Olaf's predecessor, a young, enthusiastic financial whiz-kid known as Cenred, who, it was well known, had risen through the ranks in the banking world quickly, mainly because he didn't care who he stepped on along the way. Arthur pushed the memory away and went on. "I'd taken over Pendragon Homes and we were doing well, or so I thought. The first few houses I built were well on the way to completion. I knew they wouldn't pay off the whole mortgage, it was never my intention that they would, not really, but they paid off a significant amount for a number of years. Even then, as much as I regarded the construction side of Pendragon Homes as a side-line, it was always in my mind that we could expand and develop this side of the business and I made provision for that. What I didn't make provision for was having to be away from home so much when I had the offers of building the properties for local authorities around the country and then the private developments. I didn't anticipate the local authorities dragging their feet to pay me for work I did, or the private developments being so problematic. It has all kept me out of Pendragon Homes more than I intended, meaning that I haven't been earning a regular income from the company for most of the past year. I also haven't had commission from sales I would have earned if I'd been there more."

"I see," Olaf said, looking down for the first time at a file he had on the desk in front of him. "I see you earn a salary from Pendragon Homes rather than taking anything from the profits the company earns." He arched his brow quizzically. "Why is that?"

Arthur's eye was drawn to his father as he sat next to him. He knew his earnings would come up in the discussion they would have with the bank manager, but he had been hoping to do it in a way that didn't reflect badly on his father. He knew now, he'd wasted his time. "I wanted things to be above board," he explained reluctantly, acutely aware of his father at his side. "I didn't want any issues with the taxman if large amounts of money went out of the company accounts too often, so I decided a regular salary was the way to deal with things. My father had always paid me a salary, I was happy for that to continue when I took over the company."

Olaf looked down pensively at the file again. "Why were you so concerned, was everything straightforward when you took over?"

Reluctantly, Arthur turned to his father, who met his gaze and nodded for him to go on. "You have to be honest, Arthur," Uther said, looking like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Honest about what?" Olaf's gaze shifted rapidly between Uther and Arthur, his brow creased into a frown. "Look," he sat back in his chair, his frown deepening. "It isn't my place to pry, or to come between a father and his son, but if something irregular has gone on, I..."

"It was nothing illegal," Uther said, before Arthur could formulate a reply. "But what Arthur is trying very hard to explain without making me look bad," he gave his son a warm, appreciative smile that reached his eyes, "is that I regularly had my hand in the till when I ran Pendragon Homes. When I retired, five years or so ago now, I gave Arthur the impression the company was doing well, and it was, on the surface. What I didn't own up to, to my shame, is that I'd left the company accounts in a mess. I'd started travelling by then, enjoying my retirement. I went to Europe first and all was well, but within a year or so I went to Australia and New Zealand. Arthur and Guinevere had their second son by then, Llachue. They should have been fine, but out of the blue the company accounts were audited and various irregularities showed up. Nothing I did was illegal, but it was far from honest. Over the years I'd even invested some of the money I'd helped myself to. I should have returned what I'd taken to Pendragon Homes, but true to form in those days, I didn't. For years, up until a year or so before I retired, I helped myself to money from Pendragon Homes' profits that was significantly more than I had any right to, at least morally. I profited excessively on that money, but instead of owning up to that like a man, I buried my mess for other people to find. Arthur paid for my greed, quite literally. He worked like a dog for months to straighten out the mess I'd left behind. He did it without any real cost to me, either financially or emotionally and I'm eternally grateful." Father and son eyed each other meaningfully for a moment.

Guinevere, watching the discussion play out while she still held Arthur's hand, sensed yet another shift in the relationship between the two men. Though it was obvious to her that Arthur had been reluctant to rake over the past, it was equally obvious that he held no resentment for it now. His discomfort, she knew him well enough to know, came from his reluctance to cause his father any loss of face. It wasn't because he was harbouring any ill will over what his father had done. Meanwhile, Uther looked ashamed of his past behaviour, but the pride and gratitude in his eyes when he looked at his son now was unmistakeable.

"I see," Olaf said again, his voice grave. "Does any of that explain why you haven't had a significant pay rise for some time?" His gaze switched from Uther to Arthur, his brow unknitting as he spoke.

Arthur shrugged. "For some time no one at Pendragon Homes had a pay rise. When things got better I rewarded the work all the staff had done to get the company back on track, but by then I was earning from those first few houses I built, so I didn't give myself a rise. I didn't feel comfortable about giving myself a rise because my deputy manager was taking on more and more responsibility at Pendragon Homes, while I was trying to spend as much time as I could with my wife and second child. We'd lost our first baby due to cot death, so when our second son was born it was a difficult, if very happy, time. Money was the last thing on my mind. I was earning enough at Pendragon Homes. Those first few properties brought in enough, the mortgage and our bills were paid regularly. My priorities lay elsewhere."

Arthur silently thought that it might have been better if his priorities had stayed where they were when Llacheu was a baby. The passage of time had shown all too clearly where he'd gone so wrong over the last year, putting money first, even if he'd convinced himself his motives were pure enough, treating people who'd worked so hard for him like dirt, and worse, overlooking the people he cared about most. Now the mess he was in threatened everything he had. He'd been a fool, he told himself bitterly, a greedy, reckless, fool.

Olaf sat stunned in his seat, staggered by the honesty of the man in front of him. Still, he thought, shaking his head in disbelief, the reality was that the man in front of him was in considerable debt. Honesty and integrity didn't mean much if he couldn't keep a roof over his family's head.

"The thing is, Arthur," Olaf adopted his most business-like tone. "My concern with what you are earning is that for what you do, you are underpaying yourself by a considerable sum. You own a company. I know it isn't a massive concern, but you do have branches around the country that are doing well now, am I right?"

"It's doing very well," Uther cut in proudly, when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "My son has taken the company from strength to strength, just as I knew he would when I asked him to take over."

"Father," Arthur said awkwardly. Guinevere noticed the flush that crept across his skin, the uncharacteristic shyness in his voice, but she also noticed the way he sat up straighter and the light that appeared in his eyes at his father's praise. He deserved it, she thought proudly, showing him so with her eyes when he turned for a moment to look at her while he composed himself.

"Right," Olaf went on. "That's what I thought. You are paying yourself at the level of a middle manager Arthur, which is entirely your concern, you might say." Olaf looked into the younger man's eyes. Arthur nodded wordlessly, knowing that the other man had just said exactly what he was thinking. "But," Olaf continued seriously, "my concern has to be with the bank. If we help you with your mortgage, say, take one thousand pounds a month from it and let you pay it over a longer period, what happens if something untoward occurs, something where you need some extra money? We couldn't keep chipping away at the mortgage and extending it, could we?"

"I'm not asking you to," Arthur said, his voice reflecting the irritation that had appeared in his eyes. "All I'm asking for is some leeway on the mortgage, an amount taken off to make it more manageable for a while, even if we have to pay it over a longer period, but we won't because when I've got the money from the construction work I'm doing, the work for the local authorities around the country and the private developments, we'll be able to pay the mortgage off in full."

"When will that be?" Olaf asked, nodding thoughtfully. Arthur's heart sank. He could see Olaf was turning over what he was saying in his mind, balancing what Arthur was asking for with the risk it would be for the bank.

Arthur visibly deflated. Guinevere watched his features fall flat and the light in his eyes die out. "I don't know," he admitted, swallowing hard. "Soon I hope, but I can't give a definitive date yet."

"Look Olaf," Uther found his voice again. "I'm giving Arthur an interest free loan to pay off the debt he owes the bank at the moment. If necessary I'm also prepared to stand as guarantor for the mortgage repayments he and Guinevere will have to pay each month."

"You can't do that!" Arthur cried, stunned by what Uthrt had said and the way he'd spoken so calmly. Frustrated, Arthur turned the full force of a glare on his father. Gathering himself, he collected his thoughts before speaking again, his voice more conciliatory. "I'm grateful, truly, but I won't let you stand guarantor for my mortgage, the very idea is ridiculous. No, it's not happening." He turned to Guinevere and she nodded, agreeing with him.

"So you'll have a debt to the bank and your father to pay back, is that what you are saying?" Olaf's brows arched. "How do you propose to do that?"

Feeling like everything was slipping out of control, whilst also getting the strange feeling he was being toyed with somehow, Arthur took a deep breath before he could speak. "That's why I'm asking you to give me some leeway with the mortgage," he explained, in a tone that sounded more like he was explaining something, a complicated maths equation or something equally hard to grasp, to Llacheu or Amhar, rather than talking to the bank manager. "All I'm asking you to do is give me time. I'm going to change the way I've been doing things. I've appointed site managers for the construction work. They'll oversee the day to day work while I spend more time at Pendragon Homes than I have over the last year. That'll leave me free to earn decent money again. My wife," he indicated to Guinevere, "will also be going back to work as soon as she's cleared as fit by our doctor. Providing I can earn some decent commission, we'll be fine to pay the mortgage and pay my father back. I just need you to give us a bit of leeway, that's all."

"Look," Olaf, said after a moment of silent consideration. "All I'm saying to you is that what you are proposing is very risky. There are lots of ifs and buts involved. As things stand, the loan your father is lending you will clear what you owe at the moment and that's fine, but even if we take an amount off the mortgage, you will still be on shaky ground. You and your wife will still have to tighten your belts excessively and put in a lot of working hours just to stay where you are. I consider that a risk to you and a risk to the bank. Like I said, if you had another sudden financial difficulty, there would be nowhere for us to go. You would find yourself in debt again and we would all be back where we started. In all conscience, I can't agree to that."

"So you won't help us then?" Arthur asked. Guinevere heard his defeated tone. Though she'd tried to be positive for Arthur, doing her best to convince him that everything would work out, she had thought about what might happen if the bank refused to help. They would have to sell the house, she thought. There would be no other choice.

"I didn't say that," Olaf shook his head calmly and turned to Uther, a wry smile on his lips. "He's as stubborn as you, did you know that? Also like you, he can't see what is going on under his nose."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur demanded, his eyes flicking between his father, who was sitting back in his seat now, crossed legged and relaxed. He suddenly looked far too pleased with himself, Arthur thought, becoming irritated. Meanwhile, there was something akin to a snigger on Olaf's lips. All of a sudden Arthur knew he was being laughed at.

"Would one of you like to enlighten me about what the hell you are talking about?" Arthur demanded, allowing his frustration to show for the first time.

"Young man," Olav's eyes were still shining with amusement. He straightened his face and sounded business-like again, but Arthur still had the sense that he was being toyed with. "What I'm proposing is that you give yourself a pay rise."

"A….what?" Arthur was convinced for a moment that his heart had actually stopped. He sat in his seat, opened-mouthed, stunned. He felt numb, as if he'd just woken from a long sleep but his mind hadn't quite woken up with him and was lagging a few steps behind.

"You have been undervaluing yourself for a number of years," Arthur almost had to shake himself to take in what Olaf was saying. "From what I can see, you haven't been earning your due, or being given the credit you deserve, for years. I think it's time that changed, don't you Mrs Pendragon?"

Guinevere started when the unexpected question came. "Well, I….Well, yes, of course." She stammered for a moment, struggling to come up with an answer that wouldn't offend Uther, whilst allowing Arthur the credit he deserved. Secretly, she wondered now if Uther had underpaid Arthur all along in the past. Had what Arthur earned been yet another way Uther had controlled him? Deep down, she knew it was. If Arthur had earned what he was worth, she could see it clearly now, Uther might have feared his son would have the freedom to really put some distance between them. Underpaying him, undervaluing the work he'd done for Pendragon Homes, Guinevere could see now, had been yet another way Uther had kept Arthur just close enough.

Guinevere listened to the conversation in front of her playing out, her mind buzzing. Would Arthur have walked out on his father if he'd earned more? As it was, she thought back to before they were married. Arthur had bought the flat on the Albion Estate a while before they met. He'd put money by for the flat, she remembered him telling her. He'd been so determined so put a bit of distance between him and his father, he'd saved every penny he could. He'd bought the flat eventually, they met, fell in love and they'd built a more than comfortable home together when they got married. It wasn't as if they were poor, she thought, remembering the lifestyle they'd been able to achieve before the children were born, nice things in the home, a couple of holidays a year, but had Arthur really been earning what he deserved? She knew the answer was no, he wasn't. Then again, she reasoned, if it had ever occurred to Arthur that he was being undervalued when he was working for his father, would he have walked away? She already knew the answer. However badly Uther had treated Arthur at times, however angry he'd become, Uther was his father, the only parent Arthur had left. However much he'd resented his father at times, Guinevere knew Arthur's sense of loyalty would have prevented him turning his back on him, it was as simple as that.

"Of course it is time it changed," Uther turned to Arthur, his eyes full of remorse. "I never gave you enough credit, or paid you what you were worth to Pendragon Homes, I've known that for some time. It's one of the reasons why I wanted to help you when Guinevere was recovering after Gwydre died and also one of the reasons I want to help now, so that I can give you what I failed to give you for so many years, My only question is why you haven't seen things needed to change? You are not a stupid man, Arthur, I know that better than anyone, so why have you let the situation go on?"

Arthur had been asking himself the same question. He had always worked for every penny he'd earned at Pendragon Homes. His father had always told people they were partners in the business, that they worked together, but the truth had been very different. If he'd been a partner, he thought back to the time when he was working for his father, he was a very junior partner. All the power in the company, all the decision-making, was done by his father, while he'd been expected to do as he was told, fetch and carry and pick up after all the messes his father made. Had he been too accepting? Was he still, even now, so set in how things had been done in the past, he had been blind to the possibility of change? The truth stared him in the face.

"What I suggest," Olaf went on, cutting across Arthur's train of thought, "is that we take a thousand pounds off your mortgage for now, but in return," he met Arthur's gaze steadily, solemnly, "you agree to give yourself a pay rise.

"I will," Arthur heard himself say, still feeling strangely detached and cut off from what was happening around him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything excessive," Olaf went on, allowing a smile to creep onto his face at Arthur's stunned expression. "Just give yourself a sensible pay rise, enough to carry you through anything that might happen between now and whenever you get the construction work completed. That way, you won't be too reliant on the bank if any issues occur again and you will be earning something like the amount you are worth." His face now lit up in a grin. "Or at least you'll be earning more than I bet that old skinflint ever paid you." Olaf's eyes drifted to Uther and his grin widened further.

"You're still a cheeky old sod, you always were." Arthur was struck by the warmth in his father's voice as he bantered with Olaf, the smile dancing in his eyes, but he still couldn't think clearly. Why had he got into such a mess if the solution was right under his nose all along? He couldn't get the question out of his head.

Some time later, with all the details arranged and Olaf's assurance that he would put their agreement for the mortgage in writing, including, as Arthur insisted at the last minute, putting the mortgage in both Arthur and Guinevere's names so that she would know exactly what was going on in future, Arthur, Guinevere and Uther made their way out of Olaf's office, down the stairs and back to Arthur's car.

Standing in the street by the car, Uther turned to his son. "I never paid you what you were worth you know, and I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Arthur replied, surprising himself by meaning it. "I just don't know why I got into such a mess in the first place now. Why didn't I see what was right under my nose? It just never occurred to me."

"I don't know," Uther sighed heavily, shaking his head. "But what I do know is that I never thought to suggest it because I assumed you would have realised by now I never paid you properly and you would have rectified the situation. You must pay yourself what you are due now, Arthur." Uther smiled, but Arthur could see the regret in his eyes. "You deserve a pay rise for putting up with me in the office for so long, if nothing else." Then, suddenly, Uther's face straightened. "You deserve it for a lot more than that, I know that better than anyone. If it wasn't for you Pendragon Homes would have probably failed years ago. Give yourself what you deserve, Arthur, I mean it."

Arthur nodded, unable to think what to say. The remorse on his father's face was clear. Then he had a thought and changed the subject. "You seemed very friendly with Olaf in there. How do you know him, I can't remember him from work?"

Uther shook his head and his face lifted into a wide smile. "Oh, I've known Olaf for years, he's a drinking pal from way back, but he's also a very good businessman. I first met him when I was trying to get Pendragon Homes going, his advice and guidance was invaluable." Uther's eyes became solemn. "Olaf was also a good friend to me when your mother died. He was one of the few people I could talk to, one of the few I didn't push aside to focus on work.. It was good to see him again, it's been a few years."

"You should keep in touch with him, now you've made contact again," Guinevere smiled, trying to imagine Uther as a young man with a friend he could relax and let his guard down with over a drink or two.

"You know my dear," Uther said thoughtfully, "I think I will. Olaf remembers Igraine, they got on well. It would be nice to spend some time with someone who remembers her."

The three of them eventually moved to get into the car. Standing on the pavement, about to get in, Guinevere watched Uther hesitate. "Are you all right?" she asked, feeling concerned. She'd sensed his mood change when he mentioned Arthur's mother, in fact, apart from a brief moment when he smiled broadly when he spoke of Olaf, he'd looked subdued since they left the bank. "Do you want to swap places with me and sit in the front, I wouldn't mind?"

Uther shook his head. "No my dear, it's fine. I was just thinking, it's still a lovely day, if you both don't mind, I think I'll walk home from here."

After guiding Guinevere into the car, Arthur turned to his father. "It's quite a walk from here and dropping you off is no bother. We've got a bit of shopping to do, we promised Llacheu we could treat ourselves to pizza's and fries in front of the TV this evening, but we could drop you off on the way. Sefa is going to bring the children home when they get back from swimming, so we've got time."

Uther shook his head and sighed audibly. "No, honestly, don't worry about me. I'll walk home from here. The exercise will do me good, it's not that far. Tell you what, why don't I come around tomorrow and take the children off your hands for the day? I spoke to Tom last night to ask if he fancies a day out somewhere, so we're going to one of the country parks not far away. There would be plenty there for the children too, what do you think?"

Guinevere, sitting in the car now, stuck her head out through the empty space of the window she'd opened when she got into the car. "Would you manage my Dad and the children?" Tom's recent escapades, the parties he'd arranged at the home, came to mind, even if she asked herself what he could get up to at a country park.

Uther smiled and nodded, knowing what Guinevere was thinking. "I'll manage. I know the children are better behaved than Tom at times, but as long as I can keep him out of the pub, he'll be fine."

A few minutes later, having talked about what time he would pick the children up the next day, reaching into the car to kiss Guinevere quickly, and then patting Arthur on the back, Uther left Arthur and Guinevere alone.

"What was that about, do you think?" Arthur asked, when he got into the car and started the engine. "I don't think he suddenly fancied a walk, do you?"

Guinevere shook her head and sighed. "No, I don't. I think he feels badly about not giving you your due for so long and then there was having to admit that he'd taken more from Pendragon Homes than he was really entitled to. I think he feels ashamed. He knows better than anyone what you did for Pendragon Homes, even before you took over. He knows how difficult it was for you when the audit showed up the irregularities in the accounts."

"Well, I can't say it was easy," Arthur admitted, casting his mind back through the years. Llacheu wasn't even a year old. Given that they'd lost Gwydre as a baby, they were both watching Llacheu like a hawk. There wasn't much room for any more stress in their lives, but then, completely out of the blue, Pendragon Homes was selected to be audited. Arthur remembered thinking everything would be all right. His father had retired before Llacheu was born. Arthur's relationship with his father, strained for years by painful memories from the past, was becoming close. It wasn't the loving relationship Guinevere had always had with Tom, Arthur knew that, but the barriers between him and his father were beginning to fall. Then came the audit and the discovery that thousands of pounds worth of Pendragon Homes' profits had effectively disappeared.

Arthur remembered having to phone his father while he was abroad and speak to him about what had happened. Years later, sitting in the car with Guinevere, Arthur wondered how he'd been able to stay in control when his father quickly admitted the truth, that he'd been taking large amounts of money from Pendragon Homes profits for years without Arthur's knowledge. Looking back on that time, Arthur remembered not even being that surprised when his father admitted what he'd been doing. There was a sort of inevitability to it somehow, it was, he knew, exactly the sort of thing his father would have done. Even so, it had been galling to think his father had never said anything, not even when he retired, when Arthur had been under the impression he'd taken over a business that was in a secure and strong position, only to have a finger of suspicion pointed at him by the authorities while his father was out of the country and out of harm's way. More than that, Arthur had felt let down by his father yet again. He'd begun to feel close to Uther by then, started to trust they'd moved on from the past and were starting again. Looking back now, Arthur knew the resentment he'd harboured towards his father lately had its roots in those times after the audit, when he'd effectively carried the can for Uther's past mistakes.

Conscious of how much his father had genuinely changed since those times, Arthur pushed it from his thoughts. The issue of his pay came to mind again, the thought of why he hadn't seen something so obvious. Once the car was on the main road into town, heading towards the main shopping areas, he glanced at Guinevere. "Why do you think I didn't even think about a pay rise? It never even occurred to me Guinevere, not once. If it had I wouldn't have allowed us to get into such a state and I wouldn't have treated you and the children like dirt for months."

Guinevere had been asking herself the same question for the last few minutes. The answer seemed obvious to her, but she knew there was a risk of upsetting Arthur with the truth.

"You can say anything to me, you know that." Arthur took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Guinevere.

"I never said anything," Guinevere said, a frown forming on her brow as she puzzled over what to say to him to explain what she thought he'd been feeling for so long.

"It's written all over your face, love," Arthur teased her gently, his lips curling into a lop-sided smile. "Come on, tell me honestly. Why didn't I think about giving myself a decent pay rise to get us out of the mess?"

Guinevere took a deep breath. Arthur's eyes were now back on the road, but she turned to look at his profile. "I think you were waiting for your father to give you permission to give yourself a pay rise."

Arthur turned his head swiftly, his smile falling away. His pride reared up defensively at Guinevere's words. "I'm my own man, Guinevere. You know that better than anyone."

Guinevere nodded and reached out, placing a placating hand on Arthur's thigh as he sat in the car beside her and turned so his eyes were back on the road. "I know you are," she said, seeing his stormy gaze as he looked out of the windscreen at the road in front of them. "But your father controlled everything at Pendragon Homes for years. You know as well as I do Arthur, for years he told you what to do and you were expected to obey instantly, without thought, even if you knew what he was telling you to do was wrong. You were never expected to question your father's decisions about the business, even down to the way he treated people who worked for him, even you. All I'm saying is, you were so used to how your father did things, perhaps you just didn't see that it is your company now and you can change things and run the business as you see fit, including making your own decisions on what you are entitled to earn."

Arthur turned over what Guinevere said in his mind. Immediately he remembered the times lately when Uther remindeded him that Pendragon Homes was now his. As he sat there, Guinevere at his side, Arthur realised Pendragon Homes had never felt like his, even when he took over from his father. For years he'd felt like he was looking after it somehow, until such time as his father returned and took back the reins. Had he been blind to the fact that any decisions that were made for Pendragon Homes were his to make now and he could run the company in the way he thought was right?

"Maybe you're right," Arthur conceded after a moment of silence. "My father was always there, Guinevere," he explained, his mind going back over the past, when his father's word at Pendragon Homes was law. "He made the rules, he set the terms all the time. He wouldn't bend or give it all, he just expected instant, unquestioning obedience, even from me. Sometimes I thought he was harder on me because I was his son, but I thought I'd dealt with that long ago. I have to start thinking of Pendragon Homes as mine now, don't I?"

"You do," Guinevere agreed, nodding. "Just tell me one thing."

"What?" Arthur frowned, wondering what was coming.

"If things had been different, if your father had paid you properly, would you have walked away from him?"

Arthur considered for a moment. Could he envisage a time when he would have walked away completely from his father in the past, however badly he'd behaved? Arthur thought of his childhood, the years of being brought up by nannies and feeling second best to his father's business. He thought of his adolescence, when the only way he thought he could attract his father's attention was to misbehave. Arthur thought of all the times in his life he'd tried so hard to win his father's approval and hadn't got it, but he'd gone to work for him anyway. Was that just because he felt like he'd never had any other choice, or was there another reason? Deep down, if he was honest, Arthur knew. "He's my father," he said simply, turning for a moment to look into Guinevere's warm gaze.

"I know," Guinevere sighed softly, nodding in understanding as Arthur confirmed what she thought. "I know."

Some time later, after Guinevere and Arthur had done the bit of shopping they needed to do, they arrived back home. With the children still out with Sefa, it was strangely quiet when they walked into the house. The realisation that they had every chance of keeping the house they had come to love swept over Arthur as he let them in, along with the realisation that Guinevere had supported him through the day in spite of the way he'd treated her for months. Suddenly realising there was one thing he still had to do, he left Guinevere in the kitchen to put the shopping they bought away, while he went back out to the car and opened the glove compartment, retrieving a pile of letters he'd hidden in there for months.

Guinevere was sitting down at the kitchen table when Arthur went back into the house. Moving deliberately, he put the pile of letters down in front of her on the table and sat down beside her. "I don't want any more secrets between us," he opened all the letters as he spoke and handed them all to Guinevere.

Guinevere read through all the letters from the bank. Each one warned Arthur in very stark terms about the state of the mortgage. They asked him to get in touch with the bank as soon as possible to discuss the issue and they warned him what would happen if he didn't do something about the situation soon.

"Is that everything?" Guinevere turned to Arthur when she'd finished reading each of the letters and put them back on the table in a neat pile. "Tell me honestly Arthur, do I know everything now, or do you have anything else I need to know about, a secret second family hidden away somewhere, or some terrible disease you've forgotten to mention?" In spite of the serious expression on Arthur's face, Guinevere smiled softly.

Arthur sniggered and shook his head when Guinevere teased him, until his smile slipped away and his face straightened. "You know everything, all of it. I mean it Guinevere, no more secrets. From now on the mortgage will be in both of our names, so you'll see everything from the bank. There will be no more secrets between us."

A moment later Arthur stood and pulled Guinevere to her feet, into his arms. He looked down into her amber eyes and sighed contentedly. "I haven't thanked you yet for coming with me to the bank today." He thought back over the meeting with Olaf. "There was a moment there when I thought it had all gone wrong and the bank would refuse to help us. I wouldn't have got through it without you, I want you to know that."

Arthur spoke with such seriousness, Guinevere held him against her for a moment, before releasing him to look into his eyes. "I didn't do very much. I didn't even say much, but if my being there helped, I'm glad." She slipped her arms around his neck as she spoke and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I just don't want you to shut me out again, Arthur. Whatever happens in the future, however bad it gets, promise me, you won't shut me out again. I'm your wife, I love you, you have to let me support you."

"I will," Arthur promised, meaning every word. Then, in the quietness of their kitchen, he pulled her back into his arms.


End file.
